


Barricade

by c0mmanderclarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence, F/F, Romance, Season 3 rewrite, lexa doesn't die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-14 08:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5737396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0mmanderclarke/pseuds/c0mmanderclarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa’s position as Commander of the Coalition becomes uncertain, and she will need Clarke—and her reputation as the Destroyer of the Mountain—to bring the rest of the Coalition to bear. That is, if she can convince Clarke not to kill her first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

 

**CHAPTER I**

 

       The retreat from Mount Weather was slow and grueling—and though Lexa wished she could, she could not place the blame solely on the injured. It was the weight of her own burden, the weight of guilt pressing down on her that seemed to make each step heavier than the last. A fierce tingling erupted in her legs every few feet, an itching, burning, _yearning_ to turn around, to go back, to _fight_ as she had always fought. She must only look to her people to know she could not.

          Even without the added tally of those freed from Mount Weather, the casualties of the battle were many. More than a dozen lay dead at the foot of Mount Weather at her last count—bodies they were forced to leave behind until the retreat had been made and they had time to regroup. Tens more were wounded, critically and otherwise. Of those they rescued from Mount Weather, many of them were hardly strong enough to walk. Four had collapsed within the first hour and could not be revived. Seven more fell before the second, and had to be carried. They would lose more still before they reached their destination.

          The sky was beginning to lighten by the time Lexa allowed her people to set camp. As soon as the order was called, the freed prisoners quite literally dropped where they stood—without fanfare and without direction, they collapsed to the ground, boneless and weary. Their appearance was almost universal—thin, malnourished, and a pallor so sickly that when they lay down their heads and drift into a dreamless sleep, one could easily mistake them for dead. Lexa taps two with the toe of her boot before she orders her men to continue checking on the ex-prisoners throughout the night. She has sacrificed enough for this. A sacrifice that would mean little if all of them were to simply die in their sleep.

          _“Heda,”_ Indra approaches from her left, as solemn and steady as always. She says nothing, but a bruised and battered Lincoln stands—or rather, sways—a few feet behind her.

          She knows the question before it forms on Indra’s lips. _“Bind him.”_

Only later does Lexa order Indra to release him, in a tone that brooked no arguments. But arguments were not what Indra offered her—instead, a solitary nod, and a pursing of lips that was just short of a grimace. It was the lack of argument, vocal or otherwise, that stunned Lexa into silence for the rest of the morning.

 

 

 

          Ton DC remained almost exactly as it was when they left—in ruins, and burning. Those few that remained behind from the battle of Mount Weather were too injured to be of any use in rebuilding Ton DC as it was, though Lexa could see that tents and bedrolls had been placed in those few places where the ground remained somewhat level. No one spoke of Lincoln’s conspicuous absence. It seemed that many felt as though the _natron_ has simply turned tail and escaped again, which was better for them than knowing the truth of the matter.

          In the wake of Mount Weather, the Coalition seemed somehow stronger than it once was, whole and fit and complete. She saw members of clans who might have once killed each other on sight working seamlessly together to fashion a makeshift infirmary, far too many beds in too small a space, but there is work to be done and not much can be said for comfort. Nyko moved purposely amongst them, shouting orders to any who will listen, ceaseless in his devotion to save as many lives as possible.

          Another group of warriors organized a hunt, calling for the best bow and spearmen to join them—there were many mouths to feed and too little time to do it, and Lexa spotted Atohl and Caris standing steadfast, shoulder to shoulder. The events at Mount Weather have made comrades of what once had been enemies, and the sight of it, and the knowledge of who is, at least in part, to thank for that, caused something to stir in Lexa’s chest that felt uncomfortably like guilt.

          Lexa ground her teeth together, pushing the feeling away, locking it behind closed doors. She must not dwell on the past. What was done, was done, and Lexa knew that even had she the chance to repeat that night, she would make the same choice, over and over again until it bled her raw.

          “Joren.”

          He was not close, but her warriors were trained to listen for her call, and so he came. Joren was a giant, lumbering beast of a thing, crossing the camp in what seems like only a few large steps. Up close, her eyes were level with his collar, and she had to crane her neck back to find his eyes, grey and solemn beneath his hood.

          “ _Sha, Heda,”_ he said, and he bowed his head, and with it his entire body, until the crown of his head was below her chin. He was of the Plains Clan, serious and somber, and despite his size, one of the best at remaining hidden in plain sight.

          _“Return to Mount Weather.”_

          Joren showed his surprise not in widened eyes, but a long, slow blink. _“Heda?”_

_“Do not get close,”_ she tells him. _“We must find what became of Mount Weather.”_

Joren’s eyes shifted, and there was a knowing in them she does not like. But the Plainsmen were nothing if not astute. _“Skaikru,”_ he intoned simply.

She cut him a glare, and his lips pressed together. _“There were warriors left behind on that mountain. I need to know how many. We will send a team to retrieve them after you return.”_ He nodded. He is silent, calm, collected—the perfect man for this job. _“Are there men you trust at your side?”_

          Joren nodded again slowly, though he gave her no names. _“Sha, Heda.”_

_“Take them with you.”_

Joren paused, and there was not so much a physical shifting than a spiritual one when he asked, _“You expect retaliation?”_

She had to swallow a broken laugh that nearly escaped her chest. Retaliation. It was terrifying, that a small part of her almost wished for such a thing. At least that would mean the Sky People had lived. That she had not damned them all. That she had not damned _Clarke._

_“I expect information.”_ The words were more of a dismissal than an answer, but Joren bowed all the same, and then he stalked away from her, into the distance. Into the forest. Into the unknown.

 

          Lexa woke at dawn, as she always did. Though the sun had only just barely begun to peak over the horizon, her people were already hard at work. With a quick, surveying glance, Lexa realized that some of them may have never stopped.

          It was Nyko in particular who caught her eye—kneeling at the foot of one of the bedrolls, rewrapping the bandages around one of the freed captive’s waist. He hid it well, but there was an unsteadiness about him when he leaned over, and his eyes were heavy with sleep.

_“Heda,_ ” he looked up when he approaches, and his eyes glazed over for the briefest of moments before they refocused, catching hers. His brow furrowed, creasing sharply, like the simple act of looking at her takes intense concentration.

_“You,”_ she turned, jerking her head at the waif of a woman who, though now dressed in proper attire, was clearly one of the freed. Her cheeks were sunken and her skin pale, and not even the thickest of furs can hide the thin, wiry frame that rested beneath it. _“What do you know of healing?”_

          For a moment, the girl was quiet, simply staring up at her, unblinkingly. _“I—am not trained, Heda,”_ she said, and her voice was deceptively strong despite her appearance. She looked all around her, her face contorting into a grimace, and she sighed out: _“I couldn’t just sit here.”_

          Lexa didn’t recognize her. This girl is not _Trikru_ , for Lexa knew all of her people’s faces, even if she could not always recall their names. But the furs she wore were clearly borrowed, and of little help to discerning what clan she hailed from. _“Your name?”_

_“Echo,”_ she said. Then, _“Heda,”_ almost as an afterthought.

_“Take over,”_ she ordered her. To Nyko she said, _“They will live a few hours without you. Sleep. You will be of no help to us if you cannot even stand on your own two feet.”_

_“Heda,”_ Nyko almost looked as though he was going to protest, but when Lexa raised her chin to him, daring him to defy her, he quieted. He recognized the look when he saw it, and with pursed lips and a stormy expression, he conceded. _“Change them in two hours,”_ he ordered Echo, then he stood, held himself very still for a few moments, and then walked unsteadily off in the direction of the nearest tent.

          Echo’s movements were slower even than Nyko’s as she moved forward on her knees to take his place and finish where he left off. She kept her eyes down, focused on her task, and Lexa watched her, frowning. The girl looked familiar, if only _just_ so, but Lexa could not place her.

_"We have not met,”_ Lexa said finally. _“From which clan are you?”_

          Echo’s hand stilled for but a fraction of a second, but Lexa was nothing if not observant. She saw everything. And she saw that hesitation and she felt distrust building within her even before Echo answered.

_“Azgeda,”_ Echo murmured quietly. She did not meet Lexa’s eyes.

          Lexa’s jaw tightened. _“I see.”_

          For a moment, there was a tense, suffocating silence between them. Echo, uncertain. Lexa, unwilling to speak through her anger, should she say something she could not take back. Lexa began to turn away, to leave Echo to her work—when Echo spoke.

_“I met her.”_

          Lexa half-turned toward her, frown deepening, eyes narrowing, heart clenching. Once, there might have been only one who that might have referred to. Now there were two. And Lexa had damned both of them. _“Who?”_

          Echo looked up at her, shaking her head slowly. _“I never learned her name. I was only a warrior. Not privy to the Queen’s secrets.”_ She looked down again, clutching one end of the long bandage in each hand and starting to tie them together, her hands slow and methodical and just the slightest bit unsteady. _“But she was yours. That I know.”_

          She could not trust her voice. Not here. Not now. It struck her, suddenly, how long it had been since she had truly thought of Costia. How long it had been since that pain had accosted her. She could not speak, so she glared down at this Ice Nation girl who dared to speak to her of Costia, and she dared her to say more.

          And then Echo looked up at her again, and in her eyes was sympathy Lexa did not expect to see, and also the strangest inclination of pride. Pride in something Lexa could not know.

_“She died well.”_

_“She was tortured by your queen.”_

_“She died well,”_ Echo repeated, resolute. Firm, even in the face of Lexa’s barely restrained fury. _“She did not break.”_

 

          From dawn until dusk, what remained of the Coalition worked to rebuild Ton DC. There were fractures, of course—many leaders ached to return to their own lands, to regroup and refresh and recover in their own homes. The funeral pyre for those lost at Mount Weather was burning before even the bodies were retrieved, and the following ceremony was short, and to the point. Ton DC almost seemed deserted in the aftermath—as clan after clan withdrew, going their separate ways. By dusk, there was merely a fraction of the original force at Mount Weather.

          Some warriors remained, despite the withdrawal of the rest of their clan. Atohl and Caris were two such warriors, who took it upon themselves to organize the relief effort—splitting between the formation of hunting parties, and the aiding of those who yet try to clear the rubble and debris. It was Caris who recognized the embers burning beneath the piles of rubble as fires smoldering beneath the earth, Atohl who shouted until Caris’ voice was heard. Too often had Lexa looked up from her own duties to see a pillar of fire erupt into the air where rubble had been cleared and flames lapped greedily at freedom—but Caris and Atohl were always there to welcome it. She need not worry.

          Lexa threw herself at any task that needed doing. She might have spent days like that, drowning herself in physical labor, drowning her thoughts in sweat and the smell of brimstone. Losing track of time was not an issue for her; rather that time became meaningless in even a strenuous peace. She had lived her entire life in war. She was not sure how to live in its absence.

          Lexa did not sleep. She _could_ not sleep. For whenever she closed her eyes, she saw Clarke. She saw blonde hair and aching, desperate blue eyes. She heard a broken voice calling out to her, begging her not to go. In her mind’s eye, she saw a body, beaten and bloodied and cold at the foot of Mount Weather. Sometimes she saw her alive, curled into the corner of a cage, half-naked and starving and drained of all life, as her people had been. Lexa did not know which was worse.

 

 

 

 

          _“Heda!”_ The title had hardly finished ringing in the air before her tent flap was flung aside and a man practically tumbled inside, his body doubling over as he skidded to a sudden stop.

          “What is the meaning of this?” Lexa was undressed, unprepared for this intrusion, and wholly insulted. It was only the panic on his face and the fact that she just _vaguely_ recognized him that stopped her from cutting him down where he stood.

          Or rather, slouched, because the man was still panting, drawing in big, retching gasps of air like he might have been seconds from drowning before he’d barreled into her tent. His clothes—light and loose for mobility—were soaked enough with sweat to make such a thing not entirely implausible.

          “ _Heda,_ ” he gasped out, between ragged breaths, “a message.” He took another deep breath, making as if to straighten, when a fit hit him and he doubled over once more, sounding like he might cough up one of his lungs. Or both. And possibly some of his other organs along with them.

          With a distasteful click of her tongue, Lexa moved to the small stand beside her pallet of furs and poured out a cup of water, handing it to him with a look hovering somewhere between disdain and open disgust.

          “Drink,” she ordered him flatly. “And then you will tell me why I should not have you flogged for this breach of conduct.”

          The man did not even pale, but Lexa was not entirely sure he had the capacity to _get_ any paler. What color there might have been to his tanned cheeks was completely drained, pale and gaunt. The man looked haunted. He took a greedy gulp of the water between coughs, then another, and then quickly drained the entire mug without taking a breath.

          He finally straightened, regaining himself, and shifted uncertainly in place, mug in one hand and a roll of parchment in the other, and suddenly Lexa remembered where she knew him from.

          “Keron.” A woman of lesser control than herself might have reeled back in surprise, but Lexa merely blinked. “Something has happened with Luna?”

          “No, _Heda_ ,” he clutched the mug tightly, then held out the parchment to her. “A message. From the capital. She wanted to be certain it reached your eyes as soon as possible. Make haste, she said.”

          Keron was a hunter more than a warrior, all long limbs and wiry muscles and, frankly, more suited for drawing a bow than wielding a sword. But he was quick on his feet, and resourceful, and Lexa was not surprised that it was him Luna deigned to send with such an urgent message.

          She unrolled the parchment, and frowned. There was a hastily drawn symbol scrawled messily upon it. A rough approximation of a circle sat intersected by a number of straight lines with arrowheads at each end, joined at the very center. For a long moment, she simply stared at it, inwardly baffled, wondering at what on _Earth_ Luna could mean by this—

          And then it hit her. Twelve arrows, emerging from a circle. A number of them are close, nearly touching the circle itself. One was just barely peeking out a bit further, as if tentative, unsure. There were three more that jut out much further than the rest—led by a singular arrow that stuck out the furthest, and at the very end of that longest arrow, a single dot of white paint.

          The message is crystal clear.

          “How long.” It was more a demand than a question, and Keron stepped back, swallowing.

          “Two days. Three,” he shook his head, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “I could not leave the city until it was certain I would not be seen. Your presence is needed, Heda.”

          “Tell me what is happening.”

          “The people are,” Keron shifted again, a shiver raking his form. It was not fear, but chill, as the sweat soaking him began to cool in the chill of the night air. “The people are…uneasy.” He licked his lips, and when she raised her eyebrows at him, he continued. “The Alliance with the Sky People has broken. And they destroyed the Mountain.”

          “They fear retribution.” The words were hardly more than a sigh on her lips. She turned her back on him, crumpling the parchment inside a fist. She might be tired of hearing it, but she could not blame them. She had considered the same, on too many occasions to count in so few days.

          “ _Sha, Heda._ ” Lexa could feel his hesitation without turning to look at him. “There is also…talk.”

          “I see.” She interrupted him before he could continue. She knew what he was going to say—Luna’s message was clear enough. “I must address this soon.”

          “ _Heda._ ” Lexa turned to look at him, and his expression was overwhelmingly dark. On a man like Keron, it seemed out of place. Foreign. “There is _talk_ ,” he repeated, his voice low and barely more than a growl. “Dissension.”

          She nodded at him. “I will address it soon.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand in front of her, silencing him before the words could leave his mouth. “ _Soon_ ,” she repeated. “I cannot go to Polis and calm this… _dissension_ , if I have no answers. I will remain here until I can give the people the answers they seek.”

          Keron’s jaw clenched, his eyes hardening. She saw the question in his eyes even while he had too much respect for her to voice it.

          “Keron. You are Luna’s second. I trust her, and so I will extend that same trust to you. You may speak freely. What is it?”

          “ _Klark_.”

          Hearing her name was like a punch to the gut. Lexa felt it in her core, in her bones, and fighting to maintain her neutral expression had never been quite so difficult. “What of her?”

          “She lives?”

          Lexa blinked, and this time her eyebrows do raise. “She has not been seen amongst the Sky People.”

          “But she lives,” he repeated firmly, locking his eyes with her.

          “As far as I am aware.” She remembered when the scouts returned with the news of Mount Weather’s downfall—the relief that nearly brought her to her knees, and yet the guilt that only seemed to grow stronger with each passing breath, knowing that Clarke was alive to remember her betrayal.

          He nodded, silent.

          “Why do you ask of her?”

          “Word of _Klark kom Skaikru_ has spread quickly. They call her _‘Wanheda’_.” Lexa stiffened. Of all the ways she had once imagined Clarke joined to her people, this was not one of them. “She brought the _Maunon_ to their knees. The people are grateful to her. They do not wish to be her enemy.”

          With that, Keron bowed, and took his leave.

          In his absence, Lexa finally allowed herself to sink onto her furs, clutching the parchment with its ominous message in front of her. She did not wish to be Clarke’s enemy, either—but she was not sure they had a choice.

          Lexa pressed her lips together, and tossed the message into the fire. It burned like the message it carried: Chaos. Discord.

 

_Betrayal._

         


	2. Chapter II

 

 

 

From the outside, Polis was far from picturesque. As the Capital, it was the seat of power of the Coalition—and that made it a viable target for anyone who wished to usurp the Commander. Polis stretched out over miles, the broken remnant of a lost city, surrounded by walls that clawed into the sky, jagged and fearsome and painted as black as the night itself. Hidden behind each of the wall’s spires were narrow landings, positions to be held by archers should the city be sieged. Long, narrow openings in the walls marked each post, each merely feet apart. Not all of them would be manned in this time of peace, but enough that someone would spot the approaching party.

Lexa and her accompanying warband crested the hill just as the gates were opening to their full width. The gates were so heavy and so tall that it took three men on each side to open them. The sound of metal meeting metal echoed throughout the valley as the gate doors slammed against the walls, and the gatekeepers turned abruptly to face her, bowing their heads in deference with a chorus of a reverent, _“Heda.”_

Lexa tilted her chin, her eyes grazing over each of them. It was as much as an acknowledgment as they would receive in this place, in this time.

Beyond the gate stood a solitary, female warrior. Older than Lexa by a few summers, her cheekbones were high and prominent, her eyes sharp, but kind, and her hair a soft, light brown that turned almost gold in the sunlight. She was draped in light armor and a cloak dyed a light, warm blue, and unlike most warriors, she did not wear a sword at her hip, but a single dagger and a bow slung across her back.

" _Heda,_ ” the woman greeted, not unkindly. She dipped her head in respect, pressing a fist to her chest. The Boat Clan was of softer make than Lexa’s own people—their salute was a testament to their differences. _Ain tomblom kom yu—_ My heart, to yours. Lexa thought them too flighty for her taste; too prone to fits of emotion.

“Luna.” Lexa nodded at her. She did not smile, but if she was not _Heda_ , she might have. Luna was not only a steadfast ally, but someone Lexa might call a friend.

Luna raised her head, and smiled easily up at her on her horse. “Polis welcomes you, _Heda_.”

Lexa turned her eyes on the city, and raised a singular brow. The city was absurdly quiet for her arrival. At night, this would not be something to worry over. Now, just hours past dawn, it was worrisome indeed. By now, the markets should have been teeming, the streets packed with merchants and buyers alike. And, as Polis sat on a hill, her party would have been spotted soon after breaking the treeline, and subsequently announced to all those present.

That only Luna and a few stragglers even deigned to greet her at the gates, in this bright, even pleasant morning, made dread curl in her stomach.

“ _Heda_ ,” Luna’s smile remained pleasant, but her eyes flashed with meaning. “Your journey has been long, I am sure. A meal has been prepared.”

Lexa saw the offer for what it was, and nodded. She dismounted quickly, handing the reigns over to a young stableboy who shyly approached her. Even he would not meet her eyes.

As they walked, Luna kept the pleasant, disarming smile upon her lips, even as she spoke in low, somber tones into Lexa’s ear. “The tension in the city grows higher by the day, _Heda_.” The tone of her voice contrasted sharply with the ease in her expression. “The people fear the Mountain, more so now than before.”

“The Mountain has fallen.” Lexa followed Luna as she clipped abruptly around a corner, down a dark alleyway that served as a shortcut across the main street to that which housed the district in which she—and the other leaders of each clan—laid their heads while they were in Polis.

“It is not the _Maunon_ they fear,” Luna said, holding the door open for her. As soon as it closed behind them, the woman whipped off her cloak and hustled into the home, climbing the steps two at a time. Lexa followed behind her, down another hall and to the right—and into her planning room.

The door clicked shut behind them with a note of finality. Luna spun to face her, her ever-present smile falling for the first time since Lexa’s arrival, alarm in her eyes.

Lexa took a step forward. “Tell me everything.”

Luna wasted no time with pleasantries. “The Coalition is fracturing. We no longer have a common enemy. A number of the clans question the need for the alliance at all. They do not seem to remember that this Coalition is the reason we _have_ peace.”

Lexa’s eyes narrowed at the woman. She turned, sighing, looking over at the war table standing in the center of the room. It was outdated, sorely—she had not been in Polis since before the Sky People had come. On it, Ton DC was still intact, and there was a conspicuously bare stretch of land where the Ark had landed, and where Camp Jaha now stood. A part of her itched to correct it.

“I imagine the Ice Nation is leading this… _insurrection_ ,” Lexa muttered. She could think of no other word for it.

“We cannot confirm it,” Luna said softly. “But of that, I have no doubt. The _Azgedakwin_ has sent her Ambassador.”

Her hand, hovering precariously over the model of Mount Weather, clenched into a fist.

“ _Her_?”

Luna stepped closer, meeting her at the edge of the table. “ _Sha, Heda_. She arrived in the city two nights ago, following news of the victory at Mount Weather. She has raised…concerns.”

Lexa raised a brow at her. “To what end?”

For a moment, Luna hesitated. Then, “She mentioned _Skaikru_.”

Lexa closed her eyes, and took a steadying breath. “The Sky People are none of her concern.”

“It is not the Sky People who concern her, _Heda_. At least, not openly. She speaks of our alliance with them. The alliance _you_ broke,” Luna said pointedly, her brows rising shortly, meaningfully.

“Luna.” Lexa shot the woman a warning glare. “You speak out of turn.”

“I speak out of truth,” Luna insisted. Her face softened. “Taking the deal was the right move for _our_ people, and there are many who yet consider the Sky People outsiders. But you brokered an alliance. One you later severed on the cusp of battle. If it was your wish to give the Ice Nation an excuse to rebel, you have succeeded.”

Lexa let out a harsh sigh. “They would have rebelled either way.”

“True. But now there are other clans who might stand with them. You know their Ambassador as well as I. She will use this to bend the other clans against you.”

Lexa did know, and that was what aggravated her most. How could she not know the woman who had brought her Costia’s head? She had ached to put a sword through her then, and she ached to do so now. She would almost rather deal with Queen Nia herself than her snake of an ambassador. The ambassador was a capable warrior, as she had to be, but her tongue was far more dangerous than any weapons she might choose to wield in battle. It was sometimes whispered that she could convince a man to fall on his own sword and thank her for it in the same breath. Lexa would not put it past her—the silver-tongued ambassador wielded words like poison, planting doubts and fears as easily as one might sink a dagger into the neck of a sleeping man.  

“I would simply kill her, were it not to bring war.”

Luna chuckled, despite herself. “The _Kwin_ is fond of her, I have heard.”

Lexa almost rolled her eyes. “Of course she is. Snakes of the same nest.”

“We must find a way to deal with her. Peacefully.”

The reminder was not necessary, but Lexa nodded. “We will. I will arrange a meeting for tomorrow morning.”

Luna nodded, making to leave. “Understood, _Heda_.” Suddenly, she stopped at the door and turned back. “ _Heda._ You may wish to send scouts for _Heda kom Skaikru_. Before _they_ do.”

“She has nothing to do with this, Luna.”

“They call her _Wanheda_ , now, Lexa.” Luna said, shaking her head. “She has _everything_ to do with this.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

As _Heda_ , Lexa was the last to enter the meeting room. This was both fortunate, and unfortunate. Arriving last spoke of her power, of her authority—but it also meant that every other leader was already present and accounted for. Including the Ice Nation ambassador.

Keeping her expression neutral was more of a challenge than Lexa had expected. She clasped her hands behind her back, so tightly that her joints began to ache, but the pain brought clarity—and it was possibly the only thing that kept her from lunging across the table. Lexa wasn’t entirely convinced that she would keep her hands to herself if she released them.

The sly little smirk on the Ambassador’s face only made her temper rise further. The girl was young, perhaps Lexa’s own age, and she wore authority like it was little more than an accessory rather than something full-bodied and all encompassing. She lounged languidly in her seat, leaning her weight on one of her elbows, twirling a dagger around her fingers almost mindlessly. She watched Lexa like a hawk as she entered the room, and that smug little smile hadn’t left her face since.

It was the same smile she had worn on that day.

_"A message for you, Heda,”_ the girl had been younger then, and her smile more openly cruel, more malicious. Now it was almost lazy in its intent, like she already knew she’d won before the game had even begun. _“From the Queen.”_ And she’d set the box on the table in front of Lexa, and backed away, bowing out of the room with that impish, almost predatory smile on her lips and that cruel glint in her eyes.

Lexa caught the girl’s gaze, eyes hard and cold—and the girl merely raised her brows, her eyes dancing in what looked like amusement.

Her jaw stiffened. “I assume you all know why I have called you here.”

“Why not enlighten us,” the ambassador called, tilting her head. _“Heda_.”

Lexa ground her teeth. Beside her, Luna shifted almost imperceptibly—but the ambassador’s eyes shifted to her anyways, and Lexa could breathe again.

“I am sure by now you have heard of our victory at Mount Weather.” Lexa started, and only paused when she heard something that sounded like a scoff. “Do you have something to add, Heron?”

Heron of the Desert Clan looked up at her, eyes flashing. “That wasn’t a victory,” he spat out.

Lexa raised her brows at him. “We retrieved our people from the mountain. That was our goal.”

“ _Jus drein jus daun_ ,” the ambassador drawled out. “Is that not a rule you live by, Commander?”

Lexa paused, feeling suddenly unbalanced. Commander was her title, to be sure, but her people—even the clan leaders—called her _Heda_. The only people to call her Commander were Clarke’s people. Her mind raced, wondering, just how much did the ambassador know of Clarke? Did she use the title on purpose? As some kind of obscure hint? Could they have already found her? No. No, she would have heard of it. She must maintain control.

“The safety of our people was at risk,” Lexa explained, firm. She pushed the thought of Clarke from her mind. “The doors would not open. The _Maunon_ were cutting us down in the field. We lost too many, too quickly. In refusing the deal, we may have lost all those inside the mountain, and those outside as well. I made a decision to save those that I could. Some of your own people were among those freed from the mountain.”

“Their freedom is not the point, Commander,” the ambassador argued. “Blood _must_ have blood. And you let them live—for a promise?”

“They are dead now, I am told,” Lexa said, and forced her tone to be casual, bordering on condescending.

“Ah, yes,” the ambassador nodded. “Your _ex-_ allies destroyed them. The same Mountain we have been fighting for decades—and these Sky People bring them to bear in a single night. And now, _they_ have the mountain.”

A murmur grew amongst those in the room.

“I have them under watch—“

“In case they retaliate?” The ambassador pressed. She still did not sit up in her chair, but the smile had fallen from her face. “Not the smartest of ideas, Commander, leaving them to their own devices. If you were going to betray them anyways, why not wipe them out? They are of no threat to us dead.”

“They are of no threat to us _now_ ,” Lexa bit out.

“Are you certain?”

“Kailan.” Luna’s usually pleasant voice was like steel, her eyes as cold as Lexa had ever seen them.

Kailan’s eyes flickered to Luna, but if she was at all affected by Luna’s interjection, she did not show it. “All due respect, Commander,” Lexa’s eyes narrowed, very much doubting that any respect at all was intended. “You left the _Skaikru_ to die at the foot of a mountain. We have all gone to war for less.” And she spread out her arms, as if asking for support.

To Lexa’s irritation, more than one of her clan leaders nodded their heads.

“What is it that makes you so certain that they will not seek retribution?” Kailan asked.

“They are outnumbered,” Lexa told her. Setting her jaw, she looked to all of them. “They are outnumbered, and they are not stupid. They will not wage a war they cannot win.”

“And yet,” Kailan said. “These people control the mountain. Ton DC was leveled by a single missile. Hundreds of warriors, dead, within the blink of an eye. And now these missiles are in the hands of the enemy.”

“They are not our enemy.” Lexa shifted, her hand curling around the hilt of her sword. “Until we are certain that they are, I will hear no more of this.”

Kailan raised a brow. “And what is the cost of this certainty? Another few hundred of our warriors? A village, perhaps? We should strike them now while we have the advantage.”

“We will not give them reason to attack.”

“As if they do not have reason already?”

_"Em pleni_!” Lexa cursed inwardly as soon as the words left her mouth. The smirk that grew at the corner of Kailan’s lips only confirmed what she already knew: Kailan had won.

“The Sky People are not a threat,” she continued, taking a breath to steady herself.  “The deal at Mount Weather was taken to save _our_ people,” she reminded them, and she met each of their eyes to make sure they understood her. “But I hold no ill will for them—and neither should any of you. It is thanks to them that our people will never have to fear the _Maunon_ again. I did not end one war merely to start another. Are you all so anxious to send more of your people to die?”

The room descended into an uneasy silence. Kailan quirked her brows once, glancing away as she leaned back in her seat. Lexa wanted nothing more than to rip her out of her seat and challenge her directly—a battle between the two of them as warriors would be a battle she would not lose. But to do so would be to admit that, in some part, Kailan had gotten to her. And nothing Kailan had said could truly be considered as blatant disrespect worthy of such a challenge, especially given that more than one of her clans seemed to agree with her stance on matters.

Kailan had effectively backed her into a corner, and she knew it. Lexa had not been this frustrated since she had had to engage in peace talks with Queen Nia herself.

“Does anyone else have any concerns they would like to bring to my attention?” Lexa asked more out of courtesy than any willingness to actually _know_ , and it showed in her voice and her eyes. A few met her eyes a bit too defiantly for her taste, but no one spoke.

She gave them all one last look, burying her anger and her hatred for Kailan and the Ice Queen and everything they stood for deep inside. “Good. You are dismissed.” And she spun from the room before they did, knowing that Luna would be at her heels.

“That was very stupid of you,” Luna whispered to her. “You should not have let her get to you.”

Lexa sent the woman a look that could have frozen hell itself. “I am aware that I could have handled that better.” She thrust open the doors to her study with a bit more force than strictly necessary, and it was still not enough to calm the blood boiling in her veins. “If you think you could have done better, then by all means,” and she waved her hand in a vague gesture of, _please, take it._

Luna let out a dry chuckle. “You and I both know it doesn’t work that way.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Besides, I would make a very poor commander. And Kailan would only be too happy to challenge me then. She may not be able to best _you_ , but she could certainly best me.”

“You give yourself too little credit.” Lexa murmured. “She would not kill you so easily.”

“Perhaps not _easily_. But I would still be very much dead at the end of it, and then where would be? The twelve clans, ruled by Queen Nia?” Luna shook her head, scoffing. “At least I would be too dead to witness that disaster.”

Lexa hummed noncommittally. Her mind was on other things. “Luna.”

“ _Heda_.”

“…I trust you.” The admission was surprising; not only for Luna but for herself. It was something they both _understood_ , but it was not something Lexa had ever said aloud. “I have done nothing to assure the other leaders of our position. My word can only go so far, and its reach is shortened by their doubt. I need you bring Clarke to me. In this, they may take her word over mine.”

“What makes you think I know where to find her?” Luna asked.

“I know where she is.” Lexa said, and Luna was not entirely surprised. There had been rumors about this _Skaiprisa_ and Lexa amongst their people, and such rumors about their _Heda_ spread quickly. Luna had not put much stock in them originally—until the meeting. “She is in Cinnai.”

Luna considered this, pursing her lips. Cinnai was not too much farther than Ton DC from Polis, but it was not in _Trikru_ territory. Cinnai was the secondary hub of the River Clan—one of the clans who currently remained on the fence about the Sky People. 

“She made it that far so quickly?”

Lexa merely cocked her head shortly, an expression that might have been a shrug on anyone else. “She appears to have taken a boat.”

“Don’t look at me,” Luna muttered, hearing the vaguely accusatory tone in Lexa’s voice. “It will take time to travel upriver,” she said after a moment.

Lexa worked her jaw. She had already considered this. The riverside city of Cinnai was many miles to the north, and would be a fortnight’s travel by horseback. Even were her warriors to find Clarke immediately upon arrival and manage to convince her to come to Polis, it would be at least a month before she arrived. She was not sure that she could keep the other leaders at bay until then. If enough of them defected to Kailan’s side, she would not be able to stop a war—no matter how much she might wish to.

“One of my boats could—“

“No,” Lexa cut her off quickly. “It would draw too much attention to send one of your ships upriver now, this late in the year.” This much was true—any ship this far south would not risk the trip as winter was approaching. It was safer to leave the ships at harbor until spring. “Send Keron, and a few of your most trusted warriors. Send them as soon as you are able.”

Luna’s brows rose. “You want me to remain here?” She asked. “I could go. I may be able to convince her to come.”

“You might.” To be honest, Lexa did not doubt that she could. Luna’s personality was far closer to the easy-going nature of the Sky People than any of her warriors might be, and Lexa could see Clarke growing to be quite fond of the woman. “But I need you here.”

“Kailan.”

“You are well-liked, Luna, for all they might think you weak. If Kailan truly aims to turn the other clans against me, I will need your support. More so now than ever.”

_“Sha, Heda.”_ Luna bowed her head and pressed a hand to her chest. “My heart, to yours.”

“ _Ai tomblom kom yu_ ,” Lexa echoed back to her, and she could not help but think of Clarke. She closed her eyes, and she could see nothing but the devastation on the blonde’s face when she had pleaded with her not to go.

_“I made this decision with my head, Clarke. Not my heart.”_

_“Please, don’t do this.”_ Blue eyes; wet and broken. A heart, shattered.

_My heart, to yours._

Lexa sighed. She could whisper those words until her tongue bled and her voice failed, and she knew that Clarke would not believe them. Not now. Her heart belonged to Clarke, now, but Clarke’s did not belong to her. Still, Lexa would do whatever it took to keep that heart beating—even if it meant bringing her here.

Even if it meant facing the girl she betrayed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously with the premiere this fic will be canon-divergent from this point forward.

Clarke couldn’t swim, but she liked to sit at the edge of the docks, anyway. They weren’t so much docks as a large, winding set of cement stairs cut into the side of the hill that overlooked the swollen river. Usually, she’d learned, there was a walkway at the bottom of the stairs where one could stand at the railing and look over at the water below, but the river had swollen with late-season rain, and now the entire walkway was submerged, as well as the bottom-most landing of wide, bench-like stairs.

Clarke sat a few lonely rows above the water line, and stared out at the other side of the river. It wasn’t a particularly striking view—the sky was grey and dreary, the river was a rather sickly shade of muddy brown, and the desecrated buildings weren’t much to look at—but it was somewhat cathartic, looking at the ruins that had once been a bustling city, now falling apart at the seams. They were alike in that way: time and circumstance had destroyed them both.

She had a canvas in her lap, but the surface was untouched, and her charcoal remained still on the paper. She’d drawn a solitary, curved line—the bank on the other side of the river—but she’d gotten no further than that. Drawing did not hold the same comfort it once had.

“You should come up a few steps,” carried a voice from above her.

“You should come down,” Clarke said back, her voice dry and hoarse, barely more than a croak. It was yet one more thing she had to thank Le—well, it was one more thing. The nightmares that woke her screaming in the night left her throat raw and scratchy in the mornings.

“The river is greedy,” the voice answered, but it was slightly closer. When Clarke turned her head, she saw a woman gingerly making her way down, taking each step like she expected it to suddenly shift beneath her and send her plummeting into the waters below.

“It’s fine,” Clarke insisted. She didn’t know that it was, actually. She’d been warned not to get in, for various reasons, but she wouldn’t have tried, anyhow.

“You say this now,” the woman huffed, two steps above Clarke, but she did not attempt to move closer. She had, apparently, hit her limit. “But you have not seen the surges. They can come without warning and sweep you away before you can even think to run.” Then, with a hint of wry amusement, “Especially you.”

Clarke sent her a glare over her shoulder, but she stood up. “Fine.” She debated tossing her canvas into the water. It’d do as much good at the bottom of the river as it was doing her now.

“Nothing?” The woman asked. Her hair was fairer than any Grounder Clarke had ever seen, though not as fair as Clarke’s. But she was not a warrior, and her emotions played easily across her features, and Clarke never had to wonder if she meant what she said.

“Nothing,” Clarke confirmed, waving the mostly-bare canvas in her hand. She sighed. “I thought this would help.”

“You cannot rush healing. It takes as long as it takes.”

“Niylah,” Clarke warned. The words sent a spear of pain lancing directly into her heart, ripping her from chest to hip.

Niylah glanced at her, then away. She did not sigh, but she looked like she wanted to. “It is the truth.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Clarke didn’t. She didn’t want to hear anything that reminded her of Lexa. “Shouldn’t you be manning your stall?”

“Are you unhappy to see me?”

Clarke thought about it. She wouldn’t say she was _overjoyed_ , but she supposed she wasn’t _unhappy_. “Worried, I guess.”

Niylah’s lips pinched together, and Clarke halted mid-step, and then wobbled precariously. She had to drop her foot back to the ground to find her balance, and frowned up at the woman on the step above her.

“You know something.”

“I know many things,” Niylah said evasively, and she beckoned with her hand for Clarke to follow.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s up.” Niylah’s brow pinched together, and she glanced toward the sky. “Not—not _literally_ what is up. What is going on?”

“The market is a very strategic place to learn what is happening outside of these walls,” Niylah started, and she beckoned so insistently that Clarke sighed, rolled her eyes, and followed after her. “There are many things I have heard that I have not told you, because you do not wish to hear them. But this is something you must hear.”

Niylah led her quickly down the promenade, to a small building that served as both Niylah’s primary trading location, and her home. Her booth was shut down, a few low value items strewn haphazardly across it like Niylah had cleaned everything up in a hurry.

Only once the door had shut behind them and they were in the privacy of Niylah’s home did Clarke ask. “What is it? Just tell me.”

“I am on your side.”

Clarke felt her hackles raise. “If you have to tell me that—“

“I am on your side,” Niylah repeated, stepping closer. “People have come looking for you.”

Clarke took a step back, shaking her head. “You _told_ them where I was?”

“I did not have to,” Niylah said softly. “They already knew where you were. You could not hide here,” and her eyes darted briefly to Clarke’s red hair. “You cannot truly escape who you are.”

Clarke wanted to spit out her name, to curse the person she knew to be responsible for this—but she couldn’t. Her mouth opened, and she felt the name at the back of her throat, but her tongue could not wrap around it, could not form it, and she was left floundering.

“Why?” She croaked out, finally. The word was so much heavier than it seemed in her mind. She was asking, _why are they looking for me_ , but her voice asked, _why did she leave me_? “What do they want?”

“You.” Niylah crossed the room, tension rippling over her usually relaxed form. “You are the leader of the Sky People, and they need you.”

“For _what_?” Niylah’s head shot up in alarm, and Clarke blinked, only then realizing that she had been shouting. “For what,” she repeated, lowering her voice to a normal level.

“There is trouble brewing in Polis, if travelers are to be believed.” Niylah said. “The Coalition may be in danger.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, scoffing, and tossed her canvas onto a low table in the corner of the room. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“Clarke.” Niylah said her name like they’d been over this, like they’d rehashed it so many times the topic was getting stale.

The truth was, they hadn’t. Clarke had happened upon Niylah’s stand almost by accident, and it was Niylah who eventually aided Clarke in developing her (somewhat pitiful) disguise.  Clarke, half-starved and dizzy with exhaustion, had agreed. That she had resolutely refused to talk about Lexa was an understatement—Niylah had learned quickly in the past few weeks that the _Heda_ was a taboo with Clarke. There were two things Clarke was adamant in refusing to speak of:

One: Mount Weather.

Two: Lexa, and absolutely everything that had anything to do with her.

“The Coalition isn’t my problem.” Clarke’s sigh was more of a growl than anything. And then, with Lexa’s face popping into her head, she growled again, shaking her head. “ _She_ made sure of that when she left me to die.”

“And yet you are here,” Niylah reminded her. “You saved your people. I assume you still care about them.”

Clarke fixed Niylah with a dark look. On a normal day, Niylah would see that look and drop the subject, move on to a lighter topic. Today was not a normal day.

“If you care about your people, Clarke, then I am afraid the Coalition _is_ your problem. Its fate is directly tied to that of your people.”

“What do you know?” Clarke huffed, and fell heavily into one of the chairs at the edge of the room. Niylah’s home was filled with more merchandise than the woman seemed to know what to do with, and her careless flopping sent a large scrap of metal crashing to the floor. Clarke couldn’t bring herself to care. “Since when did you become a politician?”

Niylah gave her a look like she didn’t quite understand what that meant. “I do not have to be a ‘politician’,” she said the word carefully, “to know that the dissolution of the Coalition endangers your people. Your people have made their home on _Trikru_ land. It is only _Heda’s_ influence that keeps them safe even now.”

“Whatever.” Clarke knew she was being childish, but she didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear about Lexa, or the Coalition, or her people. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She wanted to go back to a simpler time, back when she and Niylah had first met, and there had been a lot of rolling around and very little conversation. That had been nice. Not thinking, that was. She wasn’t sure about the rest of it—she actually couldn’t remember much at all beyond the fact that it had brought her peace, for a time. The nightmares had come for her anyway, but it had been nice while it lasted.

“They will be here soon, Clarke.”

“Who is _they_? Lexa’s people?” The few times Clarke had deigned to mention Lexa, Niylah had always looked uncomfortable by her casual dropping of the _Heda’s_ name. So of course, now she did so on purpose. “What, are they going to kidnap me?”

Niylah sighed, and looked down at her. There was something in her eyes that was too close to pity. “No, Clarke. They will not take you against your will. But I am sure you would rather they escort you to Polis than the alternative.”

Clarke raised a brow. “Which is?”

“The Ice Nation.” Clarke stiffened. “You are her weakness, Clarke. I know it. You know it. And so do they. And they will do what they can to exploit it.”

“Was I a weakness when she left me to die?”

_"Clarke_ ,” Niylah sighed out, and Clarke was halfway to snapping back at her when there was a knock on the door.

Three short, concise raps of knuckles on wood. They seemed entirely innocent, and also entirely out of place. If Clarke had learned anything in her time in Cinnai, it was that no one ever knocked. Grounders as a whole seemed not to believe in privacy—or at least, not the definition of it that Clarke was accustomed to.

Clarke and Niylah exchanged glances. Wordlessly, Clarke rose to her feet, one hand moving to hover over the dagger strapped to her hip. Niylah nodded at her from across the room, then moved silently to the door. She, too, carried a dagger at her waist, but Clarke had never seen her use it. She wasn’t even sure the woman could fight at all.

Niylah pulled the door open in one breath, and was met with the grim stares of two men in unfamiliar-looking armor. Their clothes were the usual patchwork of cloth and leather that many grounder warriors boasted, however each of them wore a simple sash thrown over one shoulder and tied around the waist, dyed a soft, pale blue. One of the men was lean, tall, with short-cropped hair and dark eyes. The other was a bit shorter, his skin dark, and his hair twisted into locks that were piled high into a bun at the crown of his head. His eyes were a soft hazel green that seemed at odds with his fearsome appearance.

The two men hardly even looked at Niylah, both of them peering over her shoulder at Clarke in the background. The tall man said something to Niylah in Trigedasleng, something that Clarke couldn’t hope to translate with her limited knowledge of the language. She certainly had a better grasp of it than she did before, but Niylah spoke slow and careful to her. The way these men spoke it, it seemed no more than a rushed, endless stream of nonsensical syllables Clarke couldn't make sense of.

Whatever it was, it made Niylah step quietly aside to let them in and close the door behind them.

“ _Klark kom Skaikru_ ,” said the tall man to her, this time, and he pressed a hand over his heart. _“Ai tomblom kom yu_. It is an honor.”

Clarke’s expression soured. “What do you want? Who are you?” She knew just from looking at them that they were not _Trikru_. These were not Lexa’s people. She didn’t trust Lexa’s people as far as she could throw them. She trusted these two men even less.

“I am Keron, second of Luna _kom Floudonkru_.” The name sounded only vaguely familiar to Clarke, but she refused to look back to her time with Lexa and the Coalition leaders. She refused to remember standing at Lexa's side, back straight and chin high. She could no longer dwell on what had once been. Too much had changed. “This is Aspen.”

Aspen did not speak, but his eyes flitted to Clarke’s hair, then to her face, then back to her hair again. Clarke scowled at him. She didn’t have to be telepathic to know what he was thinking. _Klark kom Skaikru_ was blonde. She was not.

“You must come to Polis.”

“I _must_?” Clarke crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t answer to you. Or _her_.”

Aspen nodded, his expression easy, almost casual. “Then we will leave you here, and the Ice Nation can take you.” Clarke stiffened. “They are outside. They wait for the opportunity to strike. They will take you, and torture you, and they will keep you alive even after you beg them for death. _Heda_ only wishes to spare you this fate.”

Clarke had said _‘she left me to die’_ so many times by now that she couldn’t bring herself to say it again, and so she merely rolled her eyes. She rolled her eyes so hard she was almost surprised they didn’t go tumbling from her head.

“Clarke,” Niylah said softly. “You must go. If _Heda_ needs you in Polis—“

_"Lexa_ can kiss my ass.” The sharp gasp the comment drew from Niylah was almost comical. If Clarke wasn't so pissed off, she might have laughed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

The mutiny on the two men’s faces was decidedly less than comical. But a moment passed, and then Keron actually _smiled_ at her. “ _Heda_ said you would be stubborn. She did not mention your…colorful language.”

Clarke sighed. “What the hell does she need with me in Polis?”

“That is something only _Heda_ can tell you.” Keron said. “But your presence in Polis will assure the safety of your people…and yourself. These are not our lands. _Heda_ cannot protect you here.” Keron sent a dark glance in Niylah’s direction. “You should not trust so easily.”

“Yeah,” Clarke spit out bitterly, “I learned my lesson.”

“It appears you have not,” Aspen retorted. He sent a meaningful glance in Niylah’s direction.

“She’s done a lot more for me than Lexa ever has.” In more ways than one.

“Clarke,” Niylah said, grasping at Clarke’s elbow. To the men, she murmured something in Trigedasleng as she pulled Clarke a few feet away, out of earshot. “You must go with them,” she whispered. “It is not safe here for you.”

“Why now, all of a sudden?” Clarke wasn’t overly fond of Cinnai, but she would rather walk straight into hell than go to Polis with these men, if it meant she would have to see Lexa again. “Everything was fine before.”

“Before, the Ice Nation had not put a price on your head.”

Clarke took a step back, stunned. “There’s a _bounty_ on me?”

“I told you, Clarke. You did not think you could simply hide here forever, did you? One way or another, you would be found. You should be grateful that at least you were found by people who are not trying to kill you.”

Clarke looked over her shoulder at the two men, still standing just in front of the door. “I thought you said the Ice Nation wanted me captured alive.”

“They do,” said Aspen. “They will torture you first. _Then_ they will kill you.”

“Slowly,” Keron added. “They have done so before.”

_Costia_. Clarke didn’t have to ask. “What happens once you get me to Polis?”

“I am not sure,” Keron admitted. “The Coalition believes your people are a threat. _Heda_ would like to convince them that they are not. In this, they will take your word over hers.”

“How the hell are we a threat to you? You have ten warriors to our one. If not more.”

“You have missiles.” Clarke’s eyebrows rose, her eyes widening. She did not have to speak to ask him to clarify. “Your people have been seen traveling to and from the Mountain. Some who go in do not come back out. We have seen them removing weapons—“

“ _What_?” Clarke’s jaw tightened, and she felt a fire within her she had not experienced for a very long time. The burning in her veins was almost pleasant.

“I said, they are removing weapons—“

“I heard what you said. That was a rhetorical question.” Clarke uttered darkly, even as she marched across the room to grab what few possessions she still had. She shoved them all into a small bag that slung over one shoulder, then spun to face them. One hand closed over the hilt of the gun she had strapped to her hip. “I’ll go with you to Polis.” Keron opened his mouth to speak, and she raised her free hand to stop him. “On one condition. We do this _my_ way.”

The blood in her veins boiled with anger, dread was curling in her stomach and there was something like bile rising to the back of her throat. She had left Camp Jaha for a reason: she couldn’t face what she had done to save her people. She had needed an escape. She should have known that escape was not an option for her. Going back to Camp Jaha was only the second to last thing she wanted to do aside from going to Polis—but she had no choice. She would be damned if she let them destroy everything she’d worked for. Everything she’d sacrificed for. That she’d _killed_ for.

“I need to have a talk with my people.”

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're back with Clarke again! For now. Next chapter will be Clarke-heavy as well I suppose. Reunion is still a little ways off (maybe a couple of chapters). Hang in there. I hope you're in for the long haul.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i was trying to stick within the 3k range but this chapter kinda got away from me so .. you're welcome i guess. also thank @jocelyntorrent for being a boss beta even when she drinks too much

CHAPTER IV

[one week prior]

The first thing Bellamy said when he walked into Raven’s workshop was, “We have a problem.”

The first thing Raven said was, “What’s new?”

It seemed that ever since Clarke left, they’d had nothing but problems. The days following the siege of Mount Weather had been a living nightmare. Jasper had been inconsolable, a wellspring of hatred and vitriol. His grief consumed him from the inside out. The moonshine that had once been his happy escape became the crutch he desperately clung to for survival. He was seen with a bottle more often than not, and Bellamy couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked into Jasper’s eyes and not seen them glazed with drink.

Abby and Raven both had suffered immeasurably at the hands of Cage Wallace. Bellamy had spent days watching over them following their return. Abby, drifting uncertainly in and out of consciousness, calling out for her daughter, reaching for a girl she wouldn’t find. Raven, silent and steadfast even in agony, as stubborn and headstrong as she had ever been. She hid her pain behind bravado, leaping at the chance to help around the Ark before anyone would have even considered asking her to, and suffering it all with sharp eyes and a determined set to her jaw. No one could ever call Raven weak.

Then, it had been the dropping temperatures with the approach of winter, and the fact that the fallen Ark was hardly weather-proof. Add to that their lack of any true sustainability and the knowledge that soon even what little game was nearby would be even scarcer, and well, Camp Jaha had been a frenzied whirl of activity since Day One.

It was now Day Too-Many-Since-Clarke-Left, and Raven was about sick and tired of Bellamy always coming to her with every new problem that popped up on his radar. He’d somehow fashioned himself as the de facto leader now that Clarke was gone, and though the kids had more respect for him than Kane in some ways, he didn’t command quite the same presence as Clarke had, and everyone knew it.

Then Octavia stormed into the room looking like the hounds of hell were on her heels, and Raven dropped what she was doing. Bellamy coming to complain about the complaints was not unusual. Octavia inserting herself into the equation _was_ unusual.

“Why didn’t you tell me Indra was with ?” Octavia demanded.

Raven’s eyebrows hiked high on her head, and she might have even jumped from her seat if her leg still didn’t hurt so damn much. “ _Indra_? What the hell is going on now?”

Bellamy glanced at Octavia, sighed, and then turned back to her. “I don’t know. One of the guards spotted them through the trees—Indra, and a couple others.”

Raven looked back down at the parts in her hands, sourly throwing one down in front of her. She wasn’t even sure what she was making anymore at this point. She just needed something to do with her hands. “Here to finish what they started?”

“They wouldn’t come all the way here with just a few warriors if they wanted to kill us,” Octavia muttered. She sounded like she was pissed at herself for even suggesting they were coming for any other reason. Raven knew Octavia was still sore about what happened at Mount Weather—hell, they all were, really. But as Indra’s second, the betrayal had hit her harder than most. “They wouldn’t get very far.”

“Then what the hell are they here for?”

“Not anything good,” Bellamy muttered. He couldn’t help but think of Clarke—but he couldn’t imagine any scenario in his mind that would bring Indra to them, of all people. Even if Clarke was, god forbid, lying dead in a ditch somewhere, Indra and her people would hardly go out of their way to inform them. Despite knowing this, Bellamy’s mind overflowed with horrific possibilities.

Raven beckoned with her hand, and Bellamy moved without hesitation. He went to her side, wrapped one of his arms around her waist, and lifted her almost bodily out of her seat. It was not the first time he had helped her, but he was always surprised by how light she was—he lifted her with a bit too much force, and she stumbled, her weight dropping briefly onto her bad leg, long enough for Bellamy to hear a sharp hiss leave her lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, steadying her. Raven merely grunted in response, slapping her hand on his shoulder in what might have been anger or possibly an order for him to start moving.

Either way, he hobbled along with her out of her workshop, Octavia falling into step on Raven’s opposite side—just in case. Raven was hardly one to accept such help under normal circumstances, but Mount Weather had lasting effects on all of them. Some, more than others. Bellamy had not seen head or tail of Jasper in days. Perhaps that was a good thing. He spent so much time drinking he was practically catatonic, anyway.

It took them so long  to reach the gates that when they arrived Kane, Abby, and a startling number of the guards were already there, guns held at the ready in front of them, eyes glaring out past the gate and onto the group of warriors sitting almost casually atop their horses just outside.

“What’s going on here?”

“I will not speak with you,” Bellamy overheard a voice that was unmistakably Indra’s gruff, take no shit tone. “Where is the boy?”

“The boy—what _boy_? I am the Chancellor—“

“I’m right here.” Bellamy stepped forward, pulling Raven with him. He couldn’t tell if the dark look on her face was anger or pain at this point. He supposed it didn’t make a difference; the point was that she looked just as fearsome as anyone else, even half-hanging from him as she was. Octavia looked as harsh as she almost always had since Clarke’s departure, but Bellamy had known her since birth. He could see the conflict behind her eyes, the pull she felt to Indra even now, after everything.

Abby started, spinning to face him. “Bellamy, this is not your place—

“It is not _your_ place,” Indra interrupted, fixing the woman with a severe look. “He is the one who she trusts.”

Bellamy stiffened suddenly, uncertain. He wasn’t sure if Indra was talking about Clarke, or Lexa.

For the first time, Indra’s gaze swept to Octavia, and then to Lincoln, a steady, silent presence behind her. Octavia’s body was so tightly coiled she was close to shaking, but then, against all sense, Indra sent them both a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Lincoln had told them he had escaped;but Indra seemed almost satisfied to see him there, if she even had the capacity for such an emotion.

Indra looked back to Bellamy, and then without preamble, she said, “This is about Clarke.”

A ripple went through the crowd, a soft murmur that rose in volume until Bellamy sent a sharp gaze over his shoulder at the delinquents who had gathered behind him. The whole camp had heard of Indra’s arrival by now, and no one was content to sit idly by as the impromptu meeting commenced.

“What about her?”

“She is being hunted.”

“By who? _You_? We don’t know where she is.”

“By _everyone_ ,” Indra responded, and the look she gave Bellamy could have melted steel. “ _Heda_ honors the alliance.” A loud scoff erupted from the crowd, almost in surround sound from a dozen different mouths. “The Ice Nation does not.”

“The Ice Nation?” Bellamy remembered them,aguely. They were the ones with the white war paint and furs. They’d always been the easiest to spot amongst all the dark leather of the _Trikru_. Aside from that, he knew next to nothing about them. “They’re the ones hunting Clarke?”

“They, and many others.”

“Why?” Raven growled. “What, leaving all of us to die at Mount Weather wasn’t good enough, so now you gotta come and finish the job?”

Indra sent Raven a cold look. “If _Heda_ wanted you to kill you, you would already be dead.”

“Look,” Bellamy started, shifting forward. Raven shifted with him, suddenly off-balance, and he had to take a step back to correct himself. “Why are you telling us this? We’re not allies anymore. Why do you care what happens to Clarke?”

Indra worked her jaw, and for a moment she was silent. She drew herself up on her saddle, back ramrod straight, a dark grimace painted on her features. “There is unrest in the capital. _Heda_ believes that _she_ may be the key to keeping that unrest from turning into war.”

“You people sure like your wars,” Raven muttered.

Bellamy shook his head. “The _Commander_ believes _Clarke_ can stop a war, huh?” He didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust any of it. The glorified Commander was the reason Clarke had abandoned them. “And you don’t?”

Indra shifted on her horse, her expression pulling into a grimace. “If war is what the Ice Nation wants, there is little anyone can do to stop this. Not even your _Skaiprisa_.” _Not even Heda_ , was left unsaid, but understood by all.

“Then what’s the _point_?” Raven snapped. “If there’s going to be another war anyway, why bring us into it? Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

“ _We_ have,” Indra reminded them coldly. “ _They_ will not. _Heda_ is offering you and your people a chance to survive this. I suggest you take it.” Beneath her, her horse shifted restlessly. “She cannot hide from this war. Neither can you.”

           

 

 

[current day]

 

When Clarke came, they were ready for her. The others had not been sure that Clarke was even coming. Indra had said Clarke was needed in the capital, and though no one in the camp was quite sure where the Grounder Capital _was_ , they knew it was nowhere nearby, and that coming back to Camp Jaha would likely be well out of Clarke’s way if she was being taken to Polis.

But Bellamy—Bellamy had been sure. Raven had been uncertain at first, but when he sat down with her, already packing, and told her _exactly_ why Clarke would never leave without back-up, even she could not come up with a compelling argument against it. Octavia had been harder to convince—not because she doubted Clarke would come, but because she had not quite reached the stage of forgiveness necessary for her to entertain the idea of being Clarke’s back-up, and she wanted to leave Lincoln even less so. Labeled as a traitor, Lincoln could hardly join them in the capital. This, he explained to them thoroughly: venturing to Polis would be a death sentence for him, but he promised to see them out when they were ready to leave.

When Clarke came, it was morning, and even in the light of day, no one recognized her at first. She was merely a female grounder, marching in between two male grounders, heading straight for their front door. The guards had almost shot at them, Bellamy was told, but Anya had taught all of them a lesson—shoot first, ask questions later was a poor policy to have.

Bellamy took one look at her as she shoved her way past the guards at the gate and the first thing out of his mouth was, “What the hell did you do to your hair?”

Clarke leveled him with a look. The grounder next to her grunted and said, “She bathed in the blood of her enemies.” Clarke and Bellamy looked at the man in unison. He smirked.

“It’s _hair dye_ ,” she groused. “Berries.” Then she grabbed Bellamy by the sleeve of his jacket and started to drag him away. “Take me to my mother.”

“That’s it?” Bellamy pulled to a stop, spinning to face her. “You’re gone for _weeks_ , and the first thing you say is, ‘take me to my mom’? What about us, Clarke? You—

“I don’t want to hear it. Not now, Bellamy.” Clarke fixed him with a look so cold it actually made him take a step back. “Later. _After_ I talk to my mom.” And she set off again, trusting Bellamy to follow after her. “What the hell have you been doing at Mount Weather?”

Bellamy’s brows rose as they approached the council chamber. “You know about that?”

Clarke sent a glance over her shoulder at the two grounders who were following her like they were attached to her shadow. “They told me Lexa’s scouts spotted you guys coming in and out of the mountain.”

“ _Lexa_ ’s spies,” Bellamy repeated, stopping at the door. “And you trust them? You do remember she left you to _die_ , don’t you? She left all of us to die in there.”

Clarke sighed, pushing the door open. “How could I forget.” It wasn’t a question. For just a moment, she softened—but then she spotted her mother and Kane, and all of her hardness came rushing back.

“What the hell are you doing at Mount Weather?”

“Clarke!” Abby was halfway out of her seat before she even _saw_ Clarke, and when she did, she halted, hovering awkwardly somewhere between sitting and standing, gaping at her daughter like she’d grown a second head. Then she was crossing the room, crossing the distance, crossing the boundaries, and, “Clarke, _tell_ me this isn’t blood—“

Clarke batted the woman’s hand away, scoffing. “It’s _hair dye_ ,” she said. “What the hell have you been doing in Mount Weather?”

Abby looked at Clarke’s hair, her lips pursing together. “Is it permanent?” Bellamy couldn’t lie—he shared the sentiment. ‘Redhead’ was firmly on the list of things that were _not_ good looks for Clarke, of which there were few. It didn’t suit her.

“ _Chancellor_ ,” Clarke growled. The title was as much a slap in the face as if Clarke had actually struck her. Abby blinked, reeled back, and her expression turned cautious. “Answer me.”

Abby’s lips twitched, halfway to a frown. “Clarke. I understand how you must feel. But Mount Weather has supplies. Supplies we desperately need. It’s getting colder out, and soon it will be winter. We don’t have the means to survive on our own just yet. Mount Weather has—honestly, more food than we could have ever expected. We’ll be alright for this winter if we ration it properly.”

“Just food?” Clarke pressed. “No weapons?”

“Weapons?” Bellamy’s gaze cut to Abby, his brows dropping low over narrowed, suspicious eyes. “What weapons?”

“How do you even know what we’re doing at Mount Weather?”

“They told me,” and Clarke jerked her head to the two grounders at her back. Two grounders whom were showing significant restraint, given that every guard in the room had their guns trained on them.

“Them? The Grounders? You’re going to believe their word over mine, after all that’s happened?”

“Are they lying?” Clarke raised her brows meaningfully. “Are you or are you not taking weapons from Mount Weather, Mom?”

Abby closed her eyes and took a breath, and she might as well have confessed right then. It was as guilty a look as Bellamy had ever seen on her. “Clarke, we’re taking _ammunition_ , not weapons. To protect ourselves.”

“That’s not the way they’ll see it and you know it,” Clarke retorted. “They think you’re a threat. You’re starting to look a lot like the Mountain Men to them, Mom—and they aren’t just going to let history repeat itself. They’ll wipe us out. We have to make sure they don’t get the chance to.”

“What are you suggesting we do?”

Clarke took a breath. Bellamy set a steadying hand on her shoulder. He wasn’t sure if it would help, but he hoped that it did. “I have to go to Polis. To meet with—to meet with Lexa.”

“You? Alone? With her? Are you out of your mind?”

“Mom. I’m not going there for a _picnic_. I’m going there to fix this mess. We’re on _their_ land. We play by their rules. The Coalition is—I don’t know, exactly, but it’s not good. Some of the clans don’t respect Lexa as much as they used to, because of what happened. They don’t trust her—“

Bellamy frowned, pulling his hand back, and Clarke spun to look at him. “ _We_ don’t trust her. If these other clans are pulling out of the Coalition because they have a problem with Lexa, maybe we should think about meeting with them instead. They obviously aren’t happy with her for a reason. The same reason _you_ ran off.”

“It’s the Ice Nation, Bellamy. They’re not an option.”

“And why not?” Abby pressed. “Why _can’t_ we ally with the Ice Nation?”

“ _It’s not an option_.” Clarke’s voice allowed no room for argument. “I’m going to Polis. And when I get there, I’m going to fix this. And you—you’re going to stay out of Mount Weather until I get back.”

“If you’re going to Polis, I’m coming with you.” Bellamy said, and Clarke turned to him, her eyes fierce and dark and angry. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

“I can handle myself, Bellamy. I’ve handled myself just fine for the past month.”

“I know that. But I’m still not letting you go alone. I won’t let her hurt you again.” The look Bellamy gave her was unmistakable. This was less about Lexa betraying them. It was about Lexa betraying _her_.

Clarke blinked at him, her eyebrows raising high on her face. She seemed stunned that he even knew—but how could he not? He wasn’t blind. He might not have known exactly what was happening back then, given that he’d been in Mount Weather most of the time. He hadn’t been able to see them grow close. But he _had_ seen the heartbreak on Clarke’s face, and he knew what it meant. Whether Clarke wanted to admit it or not, she had felt something for the Commander. The betrayal was personal.

“Look, Clarke. You’re going to be walking right into the unknown. None of us have ever been to Polis before. Indra told us you were being hunted.  You’d be putting yourself into a hell of a lot of danger going alone. Anybody could want you dead. At least with us, you’ll have somebody to watch your back.”

“Us?” Clarke echoed.

“Me, Octavia, and Raven. We’ve already talked about this.” He ignored Abby’s sharp glance. “Your mom and Kane have to stay here to run the place.”

“And Lincoln?”

“Lincoln can’t come.” Bellamy sighed, shaking his head. “The Commander  has a kill order out on him. They still consider him a traitor.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed, her expression mutinous. “Funny how that works,” she said, her eyes cutting to the two grounders. “Traitors are punished by death, and yet,” she sent them a cold, mocking smile, “your Commander still lives.” 

Keron’s brows lowered. At his side, Aspen tilted his chin up. “There are many who wish she did not.”

“Queen Nia is at the top of that list,” Keron added.

Bellamy smirked to himself, letting out a short, wry chuckle. “This Queen Nia and me might have something in common.”

Aspen cut a look at him. “Is that a threat, Bellamy _kom Skaikru_?”

“No,” Bellamy said, but his eyes turned to Clarke. “I’m not going to kill your Commander. Relax.” Clarke met his gaze, and he gave her the slightest of nods. If the Commander was going to pay for her crimes with her life, it would be Clarke’s sentence to carry out—not his.

“We leave in an hour,” Clarke said, raising her brows like she was challenging him to find fault in that.

Bellamy mirrored her expression. “We’re ready when you are.”

“ _Absolutely_ not,” Abby pushed herself between the both of them, glaring at each of them in turn. “I just got my daughter back. You are not leaving.” She turned to Clarke. “It’s been a _month_ , Clarke. Please. Stay here.”

Clarke shook her head. “We already wasted time coming here.” She glanced at the two warriors, who nodded in agreement. “We need to get back on track. Can’t keep the almighty Commander waiting.”

“We have a jeep,” Bellamy offered. Clarke snapped her head around to look at him, somewhere between indignant and outright enraged. That was not what she wanted to hear, and it shouldn’t have surprised him. Clarke was back, but she wasn’t _back_ —she wasn’t _here_ , and she wanted to be anything but. “I don’t know how far Polis is,” he continued, averting his gaze, “but we could probably make it there pretty quickly. Faster than on a horse.”

“Can you even drive it?”

“Raven can.”

Clarke scowled. “And you think everyone is going to fit in this thing?”

Bellamy counted in his head. “Might be a tight fit, but we can make it work.”

Abby touched Clarke’s arm. When the redhead flinched, Abby grasped her arm firmly, pulling her closer, refusing to let her run away. “Stay, Clarke. Just for tonight. _Please_.”

Clarke turned from her mother, to Bellamy, to her mother again, and let out a long-suffering sigh. “We leave at dawn.”

Bellamy saw the look Abby gave her daughter, and backed away. “Come on,” he said to the two warriors. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

The two warriors glanced at each other, then at Bellamy. “We cannot leave _Wanheda_.”

Bellamy glanced at Clarke. “Look, you can stand outside the door if you want to. But give them a little privacy.” When they still looked unconvinced, he added, “We’re her people. No one is going to attack her here.”

It wasn’t until Clarke nodded at them—reluctantly, it seemed—that the two men finally followed Bellamy out the door. Bellamy half-expected them to follow him, but he shouldn’t have been surprised when he looked back and saw the two of them posted on either side of the door like glorified bouncers. He couldn’t blame them. Letting Clarke out of sight seemed like the quickest way for her to disappear again—and he hadn’t yet forgiven her for the first time.

 

The door slammed behind Bellamy with a note of finality. Clarke felt suddenly claustrophobic, locked in this small room with her mother. She’d been out in the open by herself for so long that suddenly being surrounded by four walls seemed like a prison. She couldn’t feel the sun on her face or the wind at her back and there was a trickle of something like fear crawling up her spine that made her hands tremble at her sides and her legs feel like jelly and… honestly, she wanted nothing more but to run. Run from here. Run from Polis. Run from everything.

For a moment, Abby simply stared at her. Her eyes roamed slowly from her hair, to her eyes, to her body, searching, like she was looking for the daughter she’d lost under all the red hair and dirt and grounder clothes. Clarke didn’t know how to tell her that she wasn’t there.

After several long minutes, Abby stepped closer, hesitant, her arms rising to reach out for her. She halted awkwardly a few inches away, as if asking for permission.  Clarke blinked, clenched her jaw, and nodded, just once.

Abby’s eyes seemed wet as she closed in, but then she was wrapping Clarke in her arms and pulling her close and Clarke couldn’t see them anymore. But she felt it, felt it in the way the woman trembled, heard it in the way her mother sniffed next to her ear. Her mother was crying. Clarke could add another to the tally of the people she’d hurt.

Abby took a deep breath, one of her hands coming up to rest in Clarke’s matted hair. “We looked for you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “We looked for you everywhere. Where _were_ you?”

“Safe,” Clarke said, though it wasn’t much of an answer. “I was…” She wanted to say, _I was okay_ , but she wasn’t—she wasn’t okay, and she wasn’t sure if she ever would be again. “I had to get away. I couldn’t—

She couldn’t be _here_.

“It’s okay,” Abby said. And then she pulled back, and her hands cupped Clarke’s cheeks, and she looked at Clarke like she was a child again, like she was five and helpless and needed Mom to kiss her tears away. And a part of Clarke was furious because she wasn’t a child anymore, but a larger, hidden part of her wished. She wished she could be a child again, she wished she could bury herself in her mother’s comfort and forget about all the bad things in the world just be innocent again.

Abby seemed to see it, because she hugged her again, briefly, and then she pulled back, sniffed once, and gave Clarke a watery smile. “Did this safe place of yours not have a bath, Clarke?” Clarke’s brows drew together, and her mother actually _laughed_.

“Come on,” Abby said, and she moved to brace an arm around Clarke’s back, drawing her towards the door. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

 

When Clarke came out of the shower—the _warm_ shower she’d spent nearly an hour in—Raven and Bellamy were waiting for her. Raven took one look at her, and tsked, shaking her head.

“Damn,” she said, “was really hoping I’d catch you as a redhead.” She lifted a hand, and wordlessly, Bellamy grabbed her by the elbow and hoisted her up to her feet. Clarke dropped her eyes to Raven’s hip, frowning. “It’s getting better,” Raven said.

Clarke glanced at Bellamy. He said nothing, but he gave a little, almost imperceptible shrug as if to say, _kind of_.

Then Raven stuck out her arms, and when Clarke just looked at her, she rolled her eyes and beckoned until Clarke came close enough for Raven to embrace her. The hug was not at all like her mother’s, which had been tender and soft and so much _I’m glad you’re okay_. Raven’s was tight and warm and more _you’d better not leave again, you asshole_ , and Clarke wasn’t sure how Raven could get that across in a hug, but she _did_ , and a little chuckle actually bubbled in the back of her throat. Only Raven.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay to come?” Clarke asked, pulling away once Raven actually loosened her hold.

Bellamy hissed right as Raven actually shoved her, hard enough that Clarke had to step back. Hard enough that Bellamy had to brace his hand on the small of Raven’s back to keep her balanced. “I’m _fine_ ,” Raven bit out, her eyes narrowing. “And I’m going. You can’t go without me. I’m the driver.”

“I can drive, actually,” Bellamy reminded her.

“It’s my jeep.”

“It isn’t,” Bellamy smirked at her.

“It might as well be,” and Clarke turned as Octavia came marching into the room. She shot Clarke a look that wasn’t entirely welcoming, but she smiled at Raven and Bellamy. “She’s the only one who drives that one.”

“ _That_ one?” Clarke looked back at Raven. “How many jeeps do you have?”

“A few,” Raven shrugged. “Mount Weather had a whole bunker full of ‘em. They had all this shit just sitting around, collecting dust. The jeeps were the first thing we brought out—well,” she made a face, then shook her head. “Basically.”

Clarke didn’t have to ask. She could tell from the suddenly sober look on all of their faces. The jeeps hadn’t been the first to come out. The bodies had.

“Whatever’s left in there has to stay there until we figure this out.”

“What?” Raven and Octavia both exchanged glances. “Why? Not like anyone else is using it.”

Comprehension dawned on Octavia’s face even before Bellamy began to speak. “It’s the grounders. They see us going in and out all the time; they think we’re trying to colonize it or something.”

“ _Colonize_ it? Like hell,” Raven scoffed. “We’re just taking the shit that’s useful.”

“Yeah, like _technology_ ,” Octavia reminded her. “The one thing that they really don’t like.”

“And if it’s true that there’s clans thinking about rebelling against the Commander, then her honoring the alliance isn’t going to mean shit if the other clans think we’re a threat. They’ll attack us.”

Octavia scoffed to herself, shaking her head. “It’s just funny how she left us all to die in there and now we’re going to go save her ass from her own people.”

“We are _not_ going to save her,” Clarke snapped. “We’re going to save _our_ people. And if that means we have to make sure she stays in control of the Coalition, then so be it.”

Bellamy shook his head. “I still think we should see about the Ice Nation.”

“Are you _trying_ to start a war?” Octavia looked at her brother like he’d lost it, and Clarke shared the sentiment. “If we allied with the Ice Nation, that’d give them all the reason they needed to officially rebel. There’d be civil war, Bellamy. A _lot_ of people would die. Not just the Commander. I get it, Bell. I do. She’s a piece of shit. But we don’t have another choice if we want peace.”

“I’m not saying we ally with them outright,” Bellamy countered. “I’m saying we keep our options _open_. Indra said people were trying to hunt down Clarke just because she took down the Mountain. We have a lot of power here—we take advantage of that, and maybe we can have a little control over how this all plays out.”

Raven looked between the three of them and sighed, like her next words were physically painful. “Bellamy’s not _completely_ wrong. It might not hurt to play the field a little.”

“This isn’t a game, Raven.” Octavia sent her a dark glare. “This is a possible war we’re talking about here. We need to make sure we’re on the _right_ side.”

“And which side is that?” Bellamy pressed. “The one that already betrayed us once?” He saw Clarke’s steely glare and sighed. “Look, just…keep your eyes and ears open, that’s all I’m saying. We got burned once already. I’d prefer it if history didn’t repeat itself.”

Clarke shook her head. He could tell by the look on her face that as far as she was concerned, the discussion was over. “Just be ready to leave first thing in the morning. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

He nodded, and watched her go. He respected her. Cared for her, even. But he wasn’t sure he trusted her to make the right decision when it came to the Commander. Clarke was as stubborn as a mule, and when she’d made up her mind on something, she wouldn’t budge. She’d already made up her mind about the Ice Nation.

He hadn’t.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i PROMISE... next chapter will have the clexa reunion in it. we're FINALLY going to polis. but honestly i really wanted the squad to be in polis from the get go so i had to make this happen. 
> 
> feel free to visit my tumblr if y'all feel like it. @c0mmanderclarke


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been up sooner but I had a slight crisis where I lost about 1.5k because Word was being an asshole. So I had to rewrite the ending scene. I also decided to remove a short interlude with the L/L/K trio at the beginning of this chapter because it didn't really add anything to the story, so it's a little shorter than I originally planned but... well. Can't win 'em all.

 

 

“What do you think would happen if I honked the horn right now?”

“ _Raven_ ,” Clarke sent a dark glare her way, ignoring Bellamy’s choked snort in the background. “We’re here to  _stop_ a war, not start one.”

“What is this horn you speak of?” Keron asked. “You must not use a warhorn here.”

Raven glanced into the rearview mirror, leaning in her seat to catch Keron’s dubious gaze. “Want a demonstration?”

Clarke reached over and snatched her hand out of the air. “Don’t even think about it, Raven.”

“Geez,” Raven sighed, and leaned back in her seat. “I was only joking.” Looking back in front of her, she saw the gates finally starting to inch open. “Might’ve got them to open the door quicker. We’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour.”

One of the gatekeepers approached them, edging around the front of the jeep until he was standing at the passenger side window, peering in at Clarke with dark, suspicious eyes. He looked at Clarke, then Raven, and then leaned to peer at the group huddled together in the back.

“You may enter,” the man said at last, leaning back again to address Clarke directly. “This stays here.” He tapped the hood of the jeep sharply with the end of his spear.

“Hey! Watch the merchandise!” The grounder looked at Raven, raised a brow, and banged on the hood one last time before walking away. “…Clarke.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“We’re not running him over, Raven. Just get out of the jeep.” Clarke was halfway out herself, and already sick of them. She hated to even think it, but a part of her wished she hadn’t brought them. She’d spent so long alone, with only Niylah for occasional company, that it was trying to be surrounded by so many people at once. The jeep ride, while shorter than expected, had been a nightmare. It was hard to run away from your feelings when you were strapped into a hulking metal contraption moving at fifty miles an hour.

“I could just tap him,” Raven muttered, but she threw up her hands, catching Bellamy’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Taking the hint, Bellamy climbed out of his own seat and made his way to the driver’s side to help her out. When she practically spilled out of the car into his arms, he raised his brows at her.

“I’m fine,” she blurted quickly. “I’m fine. Just. Leg’s asleep,” and she hopped awkwardly on one foot while trying to settle herself against Bellamy’s side.

Bellamy shook his head. Raven was just as much of a stubborn mule as Clarke was. If not more so. He helped Raven along the slight incline as they made their way through the gates and into the city entrance, and he was so focused on keeping Raven upright and moving that he nearly ran right into Octavia’s back as she pulled to a sudden stop in front of him.

“What’s the hold up?” Bellamy asked.

“Oi,” Raven called. “Little Blake. You’re blocking traffic.”

Octavia waved a hand dismissively at their comments, then raised her arm to point toward the sky. Her eyes were wide, her brows high, and the unadulterated awe written across her face was mirrored in Clarke’s expression right beside her. Bellamy didn’t know what was more astonishing—the look of bright-eyed wonder on Clarke’s face, or the sight that had inspired it. He hadn’t seen Clarke look that way since they’d first stepped out of the dropship, but then, he had never in his life imagined a building so tall it seemed to touch the clouds, either. Easily taller than any building Bellamy had seen, the tower stretched into the sky and Bellamy was reminded of one of the pre-war landmarks they’d learned about in their Earth History classes. Except this one didn’t lean, it stood tall and strong and proud at the center of the city, a patchwork of metal and wood scaffolding on nearly every level that somehow transformed the pre-war building into the grounders’ own spire. Seeing buildings like this in pictures did them no justice—even Mount Weather seemed a world away from the Ark. Polis’ tower seemed almost otherworldly in comparison.

“Whoa,” Raven murmured, craning her neck to look upwards. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that’s the Commander’s digs.”

“How is it even still standing?” Clarke wondered, gazing at in the distance. It wasn’t terribly far from the city entrance, but it seemed to loom miles above any other building nearby. It was as if the blast had leveled everything in the city except for that one, lonely tower. Even the city itself seemed to be centered around it, like the people here had started in the tower and slowly spread themselves outward in a wide circle. If the tower was the drop of water in this barren wasteland, the rest of the city's buildings and streets were the ripples, spreading out in wide, neat arcs all the way to the city gates.

Beside them, a throat cleared pointedly.

Bellamy turned his head to look at the man who stood solemnly a few paces away. There were grounders everywhere in this city, it seemed—lingering near the gates, peering out of windows, leaning out of alleys and open doors, but this one stood out for his manner of dress. It was clear just looking at him that this man was not a warrior—his robes were long and flowy, and not the sort that one could fight easily in. More than that, his face was kind, respectful, and open.

“Hello,” he greeted them, his voice laced with the sort of quiet wisdom only attainable by age. “My name is Titus. I will be your guide to the city.” He turned his eyes to Clarke, and bowed his head in deference. “Clarke of the Sky People. It is an honor to meet you.”

A flash of irritation played on Clarke’s face, soon wiped clean in favor of a stoic expression. “Your Commander sent for me. Take us to her.”

“Of course,” he bowed his head again, and swept his arm as he turned, gesturing to a walkway just behind him. “Follow me.”

He led them through a set of winding alleys that seemed incomprehensible to them; far too easy to get lost in. There appeared to be no rhyme or reason to the way they connected, little more than a tangled web of horrendously narrow, dark streets between the half-ruined, dilapidated buildings these grounders called home. It took minutes of awkwardly maneuvering their way through the narrow corridors before the alleys opened into a wide square, where a long, short building stood opposite them. The building stretched across the expanse of the clearing, broken into sections that were adorned with different decorations, banners, and coats of arms. There were twelve in total, and there was little need to guess at their purpose. At the very edge of the clearing, a group of grounder workers seemed to be in the process of expanding one of the wings, laying stone over a solid frame to match the same sturdy walls the rest of the building boasted. When they entered the clearing, the workers slowed, not quite stopping but clearly curious, watching them over their work.

Titus led them up a set of stairs that led to a long landing in front of the building, and then sharply to the left. Clarke spotted the banner hanging in front of the door only moments before they entered—what looked like a black circle drawn over a tan canvas. Clarke couldn’t begin to guess what it stood for, but she knew it was not Ice Nation, and it was not Trikru.

They filed in behind Titus, Raven ordering Bellamy to the first chair she saw in a corner of the room. Titus moved to closed the door behind them, and when he returned to stand before them, he clasped his hands in front of him and bowed his head once more.

“My apologies,” he offered. “Normally we would bring delegations directly to the tower. However, it is currently being remodeled.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him. She’d never heard a more obvious lie in her entire life. Except perhaps the time Lexa said she cared about her.

“The others will be here shortly. There are refreshments available on the table if you wish it.” And Titus bowed at the waist this time, then retreated out of a side door into an adjacent room.

“The ‘others’,” Raven repeated. Now that she was sitting, the color was back in her cheeks. Even she couldn’t hide the relief she felt to be off of her feet. “I’m guessing the Commander’s one of them.”

“No doubt.” Clarke’s expression darkened, even as she moved across the room to inspect the various knick-knacks sprinkled around it. An ornate vase here, a hand-woven tapestry there—there was art everywhere she looked, but knowing that Lexa could have had a hand in any of it soured her enjoyment of it.

Octavia plopped into a chair beside Raven, all loose limbs and easy confidence despite the scowl on her face. Bellamy lingered near the door, feeling entirely out of place. A cold anger was clawing its way into his stomach as his anticipation grew. He was meeting the Commander. He was the only one in the room who had never met her before, and knowing what she had done to Clarke... Bellamy clenched his fists by his sides, gritting his teeth. He took a long, steadying breath through his nose and released it—and the anger—all at once. He was pissed off, sure. But he was pissed off for Clarke. He couldn’t imagine what Clarke must be feeling, knowing that she was going to be coming face to face with the woman who betrayed her.

It seemed like hours before anything happened. But then, the door Titus had left through opened again, and in strolled Titus, and two very powerful looking women. It wasn’t that they were large, or muscular, or even necessarily dangerous looking. There was simply an air around them, a palpable sense of authority that cloaked all of them like a veil.

Clarke turned to face them, and her expression closed. Her jaw set and her eyes hard, she drew herself up to her full height, raised her chin, and waited for the women to approach.

The two women stopped some feet away from them on the other side of the room, the petite woman in black standing at the forefront, the one with the blue-sash to her right.

“Hello, Clarke.” Said the first woman, and when Bellamy looked at Clarke, the blonde was shaking visibly.

It took all of Clarke not launch herself across the room. “ _Lexa,”_  she snarled the word like a curse, spitting it out with all the venom she could muster.

Lexa raised her chin, and suddenly Bellamy realized where Clarke had gotten it from. He would never say it to Clarke’s face lest he wanted to be punched, of course, but Clarke’s mannerisms were sometimes odd, out of place. Now that he saw it, it was odder that he hadn’t considered it before. Clarke had learned from Lexa in more ways than one.

The blue-sashed woman glanced between the two, then stepped hurriedly forward. A disarming, pleasant smile spread across her lips even as she dipped her head in the slightest of bows. “Clarke. It is an honor to meet you. I have heard much about you.”

Clarke’s eyes did not leave Lexa, even as she addressed the woman in front of her. “Yeah? She tell you how she left me to die?” She was starting to sound like a broken record. It was all she could think of.  _Lexa._ The girl who betrayed her.  _Lexa_. The girl who left her to die.  _Lexa._ The girl she'd almost— _almost_... Well. Almost didn't count. 

The woman’s smile waned. “Yes.” She said shortly.

Clarke’s gaze snapped to her at the same time Lexa’s did.

“My name is Luna.” The woman said, and she stepped forward to grasp Clarke’s hand in both of her own, holding it in front of her. “I have known  _Heda_  for some time now. I am deeply sorry we could not meet under better circumstances…” She glanced around the room, and sighed. “We were prepared to accept you in the throne room, but we—“

“Luna,” Lexa barked out. Luna pursed her lips, then stepped away from Clarke.

Lexa stepped forward. “We have been expecting your arrival. However, certain…circumstances have prevented your wing’s completion. Luna has generously offered up her own home until your wing is completed.”

“Wing?” Octavia asked. “That construction out there? That’s for us? Our people?”

“I honor the alliance.” Lexa stated. “While you are not officially a member of this Coalition, it is my wish that your people be rightfully represented within this alliance. As a member of the Coalition your people would be granted certain privileges. The unfinished wing is merely one of them.”

“Why not your tower?” Clarke asked. “That’s where you live, isn’t it? Afraid I might try to kill you?”

Lexa looked at Clarke, her eyes deceptively soft despite the hard tone of her voice. “You may certainly try, Clarke,” she said. “You will not succeed.”

Clarke did lunge, this time, and she might have even reached Lexa had Bellamy and Octavia not grabbed her by either arm and wrenched her backwards. She stumbled back in their arms, chest heaving, and had to remind herself where she was. They were not alone. This was Polis. This was Lexa’s home. And she’d just—she’d threatened Lexa with witnesses.

“Luna. Show them to their rooms. I would like to speak with Clarke alone.”

Luna nodded, and seemingly unconcerned with Clarke’s propensity for threatening Lexa’s life, waved the others out of the room. She even stooped to help Raven out of her seat along with Bellamy, and Clarke made a snap decision in the back of her mind. Luna could live. Lexa—Lexa could die. But Luna could live.

Titus did not seem so eager to leave Lexa alone with Clarke. “Heda,” he murmured softly, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“Go,” Lexa ordered. “Now.”

Titus looked at Clarke one last time, then bowed out of the room in the same way he’d come.

And then, there were two.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive and suffocating. The air was thick with tension; a tension so palpable Clarke could swear she could see it hanging in the air between them, red sparks in the corner of her eyes—no. That wasn’t the tension. That was her blood pressure, rising to astronomical levels within seconds after Titus had closed the door behind him, making her chest heavy and her head light and her hands shaky and her vision a little blurry around the edges.

Lexa took a step closer, and then another, and another, until she was naught but an arm’s length from her. Clarke straightened her spine and held her ground. She would not yield to Lexa. She would not take a step back, no matter how her heart pounded or her palms sweated—because to take a step back would be admitting that Lexa’s proximity was affecting her. And it wasn’t. It  _wasn’t_. She didn’t have the  _right_ to do that anymore.

“The Ice Queen will stop at nothing to remove me from power. I have honored our truce, Clarke. Do not delude yourself into believing that she would do the same. I wish for your people to become my people. Under my Coalition, your people would be afforded protection—“

Clarke barked out a harsh, scornful laugh. “Protection?” The smile that formed on her lips was derisive, reproachful. “Last I checked, the only person I needed protection from was you.” Clarke pretended she didn’t notice the flash of hurt in Lexa’s eyes.

“You are here,” Lexa said. She took a breath, drawing herself up, the mask falling into place. “You are here, and you are alive, and you are breathing. Should the Ice Queen have gotten hold of you, that would not be true.”

Clarke scoffed, turning away from her. She couldn’t bear to look at her anymore. She was going to be sick. “So, what? You’re saying I should be thankful for  _you_ , of all people?”

“No,” Lexa said quietly. “I would not ask that of you. I ask only that you consider my offer. Bow before me, and your people will be safe.”

The rage simmering below her skin boiled over and erupted, filling Clarke’s chest with the kind of burning heat that was so thick that it was almost painful to draw air, like the very weight of it had pressed and pressed until her lungs caved and collapsed to the pressure and now she had to gasp for air, gasp for balance, gasp for the strength not to close her fingers around her gun and pull the trigger. Clarke met Lexa’s eyes, and she let all the pain and rage and hate fill her own gaze until she hoped Lexa burned with it, screamed with it, died with it.

“I will  _never_  bow to you.”

Steel slid into place. “Then you sentence your people to death.” Gone was Lexa. Gone was the girl Clarke had—had  _felt_  for. Gone was the vulnerability, the softness, the warmth. Here was hardness, sharp and unforgiving, cold and desolate, steel and stone and unbreakable.

Here was the Commander. “Your people, or your vindication. You have until tomorrow morning to decide.” The Commander spun on her heel, marching out of the room, her movements stiff and jilted and mechanic and everything that  _Lexa_ wasn’t—and the door slammed shut behind her, and for a moment, just one moment—Clarke could breathe again.

Clarke could breathe again, and her hands stopped shaking, and her body felt cold, and Clarke convinced herself that it was the heat of her anger fading away in Lexa’s absence that chilled her inside. It wasn’t the look on Lexa’s face as she turned away, so reminiscent of the last time she had done just that. It wasn’t the cold logic in her voice, or the way she managed to make Clarke feel so childish and petty in just a few coolly uttered words.

Once again, Clarke found herself backed into a corner. Once again, she had to decide between the safety and the well-being of her people, and the well-being of herself—and really, when had that ever been a fair fight? Clarke had spent only a month on her own. It was hardly enough time to accustom herself to living selfishly. She wasn’t afforded that luxury. She hadn’t had that privilege since she’d been dropped on this godforsaken planet along with everyone else. She wasn’t sure she ever would again. She may have been born Clarke Griffin, but she was  _Klark kom Skaikru_ , now.  _Wanheda_. Clarke Griffin was a thing of the past.

 

 

…And the door slammed shut.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering I had to rewrite the ENTIRE Clexa scene I hope this didn't disappoint too much... but tbh I was really aggravated about the fact that I had to rewrite it at all even though I probably prefer this version as opposed to the original one that pulled a disappearing act. Clap for Houdini. 
> 
> On an unrelated note, would you guys prefer that I post chapters as soon as I'm done with them, or would you rather I stick to a particular schedule i.e. updating on a certain day of the week? At this point the only thing I can really say is that I *generally* update between episodes but well... yeah. That's not much of a schedule. Maybe Wednesdays? I'm generally too much of a mess to write in the days following the episodes anyway. Y'all lemme know what you want in the comments.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always big big thanks to @jocelyntorrent for the beta.

 

To say that grounders rose early would be an understatement. When Clarke woke from a light, fitful sleep that was more tossing and turning than it was actual rest, the sky was still dark, the night still chilly, and already she heard the din of construction work outside her window. Clarke briefly contemplated murder.

Clarke laid in the pile of furs, her eyes closed, trying to will herself to block out the noise of the working grounders outside. Even when their clamoring faded to the background, she found herself kicking at the furs surrounding her, feeling suddenly hot and uncomfortable. Then she couldn’t find a good sleeping position.

Then she gave up.

With an aggravated huff, Clarke rolled out of the cot, pulled on her boots, and marched out of the small room she had been given the night before. It wasn’t ideal, Luna had said, but it would suffice until the Sky People’s hall was finished. It was small and cramped and Clarke couldn’t have hoped to sleep with the window closed, but now she almost wished she would have because she was up and the sun _wasn’t_.

Clarke heard voices in the dining hall, and came to a sudden stop at the edge of the hall. Only once she had listened for a few moments and found that none of the voices belonged to Lexa did she step around the corner and enter the room.

Sitting at one end of the long table was Luna, who looked up mid-bite when she approached and stopped eating only long enough to smile at her. There was a feast laid out before her fit for kings—rolls, gravy, meats, some sort of porridge, juice and milk and, Clarke sniffed, _coffee_. At Luna’s right was Raven, who hardly even looked conscious, held a mug to her face with both hands, inhaling the aroma that wafted off of it. With her eyes closed and her face as relaxed as it was, Clarke wasn’t even entirely sure she was awake.

“Come, Clarke,” Luna said, when Clarke hovered uncertainly near the doorway. “Don’t want the food to get cold. We weren’t sure what you liked,” Clarke determinedly ignored the _we_ in that statement. She didn’t want to know who _we_ was. “So we had them bring a bit of everything. I hope this will suffice.”

Clarke wanted to be angry. She wanted to scoff and roll her eyes and brush off this kindness because she knew Lexa had something to do with it. But Luna had done nothing to her. Luna had been nothing but kind, and welcoming, and she deserved better than to be met with Clarke’s resentment for Lexa.

Quietly, Clarke nodded as she approached the table. Glancing at Raven, she asked, “How did you manage to get her out of bed this early? The sun isn’t even up yet.”

Raven let out a long-suffering groan, took a deep whiff of the mug in her hands, and took it to her lips.

Luna looked at Raven, and her lips curled into a soft, amused smile. “I didn’t, actually. I heard her in the hallway, trying to find a bathroom.”

Raven pulled the mug from her lips, and opened her eyes to look at Clarke. She still looked half-asleep, but her eyes were at least focused and _present_ , and that was more than Clarke had expected of her at this time in the day. “They have indoor plumbing,” she breathed, almost reverently.

Clarke’s brows rose, and she turned her eyes to Luna.

Luna shrugged, smiling. “Polis may be a step above what you might have seen at Tondc.”

Raven scoffed. “You had me at indoor plumbing. And coffee. Did I mention they had _coffee_? Actual coffee, Clarke.” Raven’s brows came together, and for the look on her face, one might have thought Raven had discovered the meaning to life itself. “ _Coffee._ ”

Clarke gave the girl a slow, reassuring nod. “Coffee,” she repeated. Raven nodded sagely.

Luna chuckled to herself and gestured to the seat across from her. “Have a seat, Clarke. Enjoy yourself. I’m afraid this will probably be the last relaxed morning we’ll have in a while.”

“Speaking of _relaxed_ ,” Raven leaned back in her seat, taking another sip of her god-sent coffee. With each drink, she seemed a bit more alert. A bit more like her usual, sassy self. “Where’s Commander Hardass?”

Clarke gave Raven a sharp look, but Luna only laughed. She _laughed_. Clarke couldn’t even remember if she’d ever seen _Niylah_ laugh, and Niylah was the most easy-going grounder Clarke had ever met.

“As I’m sure you will be pleased to hear, Lexa is otherwise occupied today.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed, and she sent a glance over her shoulder at the darkness outside the window. It was still nearly pitch black outside, with only the slightest inkling of a purple haze as the sun began to inch over the horizon. “Already? This early?”

Luna caught Clarke’s gaze, and raised her brows meaningfully. “There is no need to be concerned, Clarke.” And Clarke’s brow creased, her lips pursing at the idea that she was concerned for Lexa. She wasn’t. It was just so damn _early_. Who would be up this early voluntarily? “The Commander simply has some…political matters to attend to, that’s all.”

Raven cocked a brow at Luna. “At the asscrack of dawn?”

Luna blinked, then smirked. “You have a very colorful way of speaking.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Clarke groused. Honestly she was debating why she brought Raven along—the girl had no filter whatsoever. Clarke reached across the table, grabbed a biscuit, and held back a moan as the fluffy, buttery pastry met her tongue.

Raven caught the look on her face and nodded understandingly. “Just let it out, girl.”

Clarke didn’t, but she could understand the desire to. She’d lived a month on little but fish and roasted meats, and though Niylah’s cooking wasn’t as terrible as her own, there was something to be said for fresh bread. On the Ark, bread and grains were almost a staple of their daily lives—wheat was one of the few grains that took well to growing in space, and used little water for how much yield it produced. It was one of the few food items that were not quite as tightly rationed as others, enough so that even as one of the privileged, Clarke had grown almost sick of it on the station.

“What about you?” Clarke managed, a long few minutes later. It was only after she’d eaten three biscuits without speaking that she realized how ravenous she was, and now she was faced with Luna’s knowing smile and wanted nothing more than to divert her attention. “You’re the leader of the Boat Clan. Don’t you have something you should be doing?”

“Shh, Clarke. She brought us food.”

“I didn’t, actually,” Luna deflected, but she smiled at Raven anyway. “When guests are present, food is delivered to the dining hall by dawn.”

“Every day?” Raven asked, brows raising.

“Well,” Luna shrugged. “It’s usually not this lavish, but yes.”

Suddenly the bread was harder to swallow. Clarke didn’t have to ask why they were getting a special treatment.

“And I’ve been tasked with watching over you for the day. _Heda_ might have done it herself, but,” she shrugged again, “she has other things to attend to.”

Clarke wondered how much of that was true, and how much of Lexa’s absence was due to their uncomfortable reunion. A part of her was convinced that Lexa was simply avoiding her, and she felt a dark satisfaction at the thought of it. Good. Maybe she’d gotten the message that Clarke wanted nothing to do with her. She could never see Lexa again and it’d still be too soon.

“One of the envoys from the Ice Nation is…notoriously difficult to deal with,” Luna offered. “I imagine Lexa is trying to keep her distracted.” The woman shuddered, and Clarke wasn’t even sure how much of it was an act of dramatics, and how much of it was sincere.

Clarke leaned back in her seat. “What? She afraid we’re going to align ourselves with the Ice Nation?”

“Lexa made you out to be much smarter than that,” Luna retorted. “But Kailan is nothing if not persuasive.”

“And she wants me dead, is that right?”

“I’m not sure what she wants, to be honest.” Luna admitted. “If she wanted you dead, it would have been smarter to send assassins while you were on your way here. There are too many eyes and ears here in Polis. She can’t attack you without bringing attention to herself and her Queen. Whatever she wants with you and your people, she needs you alive for it.”

“Well, at least that’s one person who doesn’t wanna kill you,” Raven muttered, and she set down her cup for the first time since Clarke had entered the room. The discussion seemed to have soured her mood enough that even coffee couldn’t lighten it.

“I wouldn’t be thankful just yet.” Luna’s voice dropped, a low warning in her tone. “There are worse fates than death.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Bellamy woke with the rising of the sun. He seemed to have grabbed the room that just so happened to have the window on the eastern side, so that when the sun rose, it shone directly onto his face. There was a brief moment that he considered just turning around and burying his face in the wall and sleeping for the next three years, but alas—he had things to do and people to see.

The bathtub in his room was already filled with water when he finally climbed out of bed, and though the water was tepid at best, it was clean, and he’d certainly bathed with less. He washed quickly, dressed quickly, and was out of the door in record time.

The halls outside his chambers were silent, and the door across from his was open. That was where Clarke had slept, and looking down the hall, he saw that Raven’s room door was open as well. “Clarke? Raven?”

“In here,” Clarke called.

Bellamy turned, making his way to the dining hall. His eyebrows rose at the sight of the food spread across the table, and at Luna, sitting gingerly at the head of it. “You’re still here?”

Luna blinked, her brows furrowing for just an instant. Then her lips curled into a bemused smile. “I live here,” she said plainly, her light-colored eyes practically twinkling at him.

He frowned at her. She was too easy, too light, too—too _not_ Grounder. He didn’t know what to think of her. He didn’t know if he could trust her. She was certainly more amiable than the Commander, but she was also _friends_ with the Commander. That was enough of a reason not to trust her.

“Right,” he said slowly, and his eyes slid to Raven.

“Don’t even look at me,” Raven said, when she saw him looking. “I’m not leaving this table for at least another five hours.”

“What’s in five hours?”

“Nothing. I’ve just ingested so much caffeine I think I might actually have a heart attack if I try standing up.” Bellamy raised a brow. “I’m serious. I can’t feel my heart beat.”

Clarke glanced over at Raven, reached over, and slowly slid the mug away from her. “I think you’ve had enough.”

Raven nodded, but that didn’t stop her from staring at it mournfully.

“Well,” Bellamy nodded, more to himself than them. “I’m going out.”

Clarke looked up at him, frowning. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” he repeated. Clarke’s head tilted, her brows rising suddenly, and he winced inwardly. That was the wrong thing to say. “I want to look around a bit.”

Clarke stared at him for a moment, a vaguely suspicious look on her face like she didn’t quite trust him out on his own. Then, one of her eyebrows quirked, and she turned her head away, shaking her head. “Just don’t piss anyone off,” she said.

Bellamy glanced at Raven. The girl merely cocked her head and raised her own eyebrows, as if to say, _you heard the girl_.

“No promises.”

 

 

Really, he had said it as a joke. He hadn’t _actually_ meant to get in trouble. But Polis was a big city, easily ten times as big as Tondc, and frankly none of it made any goddamn _sense_. He was lost within minutes of leaving the Clan home, and even turning around and trying to retrace his steps only seemed to get him more lost than he was before. Following the sounds of voices hardly helped, either—with the narrow streets and buildings, voices seemed to carry and wind around the corridors, making them impossible to track down.

Bellamy didn’t know how long it had been. Perhaps an hour. Maybe more. Now, he stood at the center of a crossroads of alleys, it seemed, and he’d turned around so many times he couldn’t even remember which direction he’d come from.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and turned once more. All the alleys looked the same. “The fucking forest is easier to navigate than this maze.”

“Lost?”

He spun, whirling, his hand reaching to a weapon he hadn’t thought to carry. “Who are you?”

“A friend.” It was a girl, standing behind him, mere feet from him, and he hadn’t even heard her approach. It was only the fact that she didn’t appear to be carrying any weapons that set him even slightly more at ease than he was. “You’re _Skaikru_ , aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said warily. She was young, close to his age. Dark-hair with grey eyes that contrasted sharply with her deeply tanned skin. He was easily a head taller than her, towering over her petite frame. And, he noted, with a glance over her clothes—she didn’t seem to be a warrior. She was wearing plainclothes, with no armor or leather in sight. She was even pretty, in an understated kind of way.

“Looking for something in particular?” She took a step closer. Bellamy took a step back. The girl blinked, halting mid-step, and didn’t move to come closer again. “It’s easy to get lost in these streets if you don’t know your way. I could help you find your way around.”

“Why help me?”

“You’re _Skaikru_ ,” she said, as if that explained everything. “You destroyed the Mountain. We all owe a debt to you.” She smiled, easy and free and warm. “The least I can do is show you around.”

He settled back, eyeing her critically. “Can you take me to the Commander?”

Her brows rose. “She’s in her tower.”

“I didn’t ask where she was. I asked if you could take me to her.”

“I could,” she said, and now it was her that was wary. “What do you need the Commander for?”

“Me and her need to have a little chat. Can you take me there or not?”

“I could,” she agreed, nodding. “But first,” she stepped close again, and this time, Bellamy didn’t back away. He let her grab his sleeve and direct him to the alley at their right, leading him down it. “It’s lunch. _Heda_ is in a meeting right now, I’m sure. I saw a delegation heading there earlier. Why don’t we have a bite to eat before we go? I’ve always wanted to meet one of you.”

“One of us? The Sky People?”

“You’re legendary,” she answered as they turned a corner and continued down a second alley. He could see light at the end of it and found himself irritated by the thought that he’d been so close to an exit without even realizing it. “ _Wanheda_.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, but the girl didn’t seem to see him. “Yeah, Clarke,” he corrected. “She’s not this _Commander of Death_ nonsense you people keep talking about.”

“It’s a title,” she explained, sending a wry smile over her shoulder, “not a definition. A living legend deserves a fitting title, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s stupid,” he muttered, following her out into the open. The clearing was not unlike that from which he originally came from, and he wondered for the hundredth time how these people found their way around when everything looked the same. But he could see market stalls and smell food and his body decided right then to remind him he hadn’t eaten.

“See,” the girl said, clasping her hands behind her back. “I knew coming here first would be better. Let’s get you something to eat.”

“I don’t have anything to trade,” he offered, but she ignored him, and his stomach followed the promise of sustenance.

 

Sometime later, he found himself sitting at a small round table across from the girl, his plate nearly empty and feeling more sated than he had in a long while. Ark food had gotten better since they’d landed, but it didn’t compare to Polis. Whatever else they were, it was clear the Grounders were well-versed in at least two things: War, and Food.

“You’re here to forge an alliance, aren’t you? Shouldn’t Clarke be the one to see _Heda_?”

“Clarke isn’t the only one who leads our people,” he argued. “We led them together. We took down the Mountain together.” At this, the girl’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Yeah—you probably didn’t hear about that in all your legends and stories. We pulled that lever together. It wasn’t just her.”

The girl leaned back in her chair, the expression on her face unreadable. “You want recognition, then? A title of your own?”

Bellamy scoffed. “I don’t care about all that. I just wish they wouldn’t throw everything on her shoulders and expect her to handle everything alone. She’s only one girl.”

“So is the Commander,” the girl argued.

She had a point, but Bellamy didn’t want to admit it. “Yeah, well, we’ve all seen what your Commander does on her own.”

“Mm,” the brunette nodded, spearing a fruit with her fork. He worried briefly that she may have been offended, but when she looked up at him, she didn’t seem bothered. “Betraying _Skaikru_ was not the best decision _Heda_ has ever made. You aren’t the first person to voice that opinion.”

Now Bellamy was interested. “I’m not?”

“Loyalty, honor, integrity…” she shrugged. “These are qualities expected of every warrior. That our Commander seems not to possess them at times…” and she left it open ended.

“There’s people against her.”

“More than you might think. Your people are dangerous. You may have defeated the Mountain Men, but now your people go in and out at will. Not only do you have access to the Mountain Men’s weapons, you have the means to use it—if you wished. Making an enemy of you was stupid. Even had you not taken the Mountain, her betrayal of you has led to talk amongst the people here.”

She stood, and beckoned to him, and he followed, sending an awkward smile in the direction of the young woman who came to clean their table as they left.

“What kind of talk?” He asked, once they were out of earshot.

“The treasonous kind,” the girl replied. “There are many here who wonder how far we can trust the Commander when she so readily abandons her allies. What good is the Coalition? How effective is it, when any one clan may be sacrificed for the good of another? What we have now isn’t unification. It is a ceasefire. And ceasefires come to an end, eventually. The people not only fear you, they fear the strength of our current alliance.”

“War,” Bellamy realized. “We heard something was going on, but… The clans don’t want her in power anymore, do they?” 

“Some of them. Not all. But enough that she is worried. Why else do you think you were brought here?”

“I know,” he glared down at the ground ahead of him. He’d known it. He’d _known_ and still, hearing it from another’s mouth made him so _angry_. Of _course_ the Commander had brought them here just to use Clarke again. Of _course_ that’s all she wanted.

“What will you do?”

He looked up at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“About the Commander. She betrayed you. Do you think you can trust her again?”

“No,” he muttered. “But we might not have a choice.”

The girl’s lips curled into a smile. “Oh, there is always a choice, my friend. The Commander is only in power because we allow her to be. She can be unseated.”

“By who, the Ice Nation? From what I’ve heard, they’re not much of an improvement.”

“Well,” the girl shrugged. “I suppose that depends on your point of view. _We’ve_ certainly never turned our backs on an ally on the field of battle before. But I suppose we might have a bit of a reputation for being a little…unkind to our enemies.”

His eyes flitted over her face, a wrinkle forming in his brow. “You’re Ice Nation?”

She nodded. “I’m not a warrior,” she told him, catching his gaze. “Only our warriors are marked.”

He nodded, but part of him couldn’t reconcile this girl with the image in his head of the Ice Nation. From what he knew of them, they were ruthless and barbaric and—well. Maybe they weren’t. There was Echo, after all. She’d helped him in Mount Weather.

 “Here is where we part ways, I’m afraid,” the girl said, and she smiled up at him. “There’s an elevator inside that can take you to the top. The Commander will likely still be in her throne room.”

Bellamy blinked, and looked up. It hadn’t felt like they had been walking very long, and yet the tower loomed before him. It seemed even bigger up close, a feat he hadn’t even thought was possible. “You seem to know a lot about her schedule,” he said, warily eyeing the two guards at the door. He didn’t like the looks they were giving him.

“I’ve lived in Polis a while,” she deflected. “We tend to remember when she’s up there. Things have a habit of falling down.” She glanced pointedly behind him, and he turned his head. There was a suspiciously dark stain on the pavement. “Keep your ears open. If you hear anyone screaming, you should probably get out of the way.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline, but he didn’t even know why he was surprised. He already knew Lexa was ruthless. He didn’t know why the idea of her throwing people out of her tower was anything but expected of her. “Right… I’ll keep that in mind.”

The girl waved, turning away.

“Wait,” he called. “I never got your name.”

She turned to him, grey eyes catching his, and her smile was warm and pleasant and friendly and everything he didn’t associate with grounders until now. He’d thought Luna was an exception, but this girl seemed to prove him wrong.

She approached him one last time, and stuck out her hand. “I didn’t realize I never introduced myself.” He grabbed her by the arm, imitating the warriors’ grip he’d seen other grounders do, and shook it.

“Kailan,” she said. Her smile widened, and her eyes seemed to dance in the sunlight, turning a startling shade of blue-grey. “My name is Kailan.”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke had never made a habit of sleeping early. There was always too much to do, too much to plan. Even when she retired early, her mind never stopped working until, more often than not, the wee hours of the morning. Often times, Clarke could never remember falling asleep—only the act of laying down and praying for her brain to just _stop_ , for one second, for one instant, for one minute, for one _night_.

It was true to form, then, that she was awake when the door to her room opened in the middle of the night. Her room was only dimly lit by the light of the moon streaming through the windows, and the figure that entered her room was shrouded in shadow, no more than a dark silhouette. But it was a silhouette Clarke could not hope to forget, and one she recognized almost so instinctively it was not unlike looking at her own reflection. Me, that is me. Lexa, that is Lexa.

She recognized Lexa’s mere shadow as instantaneously and unthinkingly as she did herself, and she was out of her bed and on her feet before the woman could take a step closer.

“Did I give you permission to enter my room?” Clarke snapped, as she approached.

Lexa halted mid-step, half-illuminated by the moonlight, and for a short, but intensely satisfying few seconds, she looked momentarily struck dumb by Clarke’s words. She blinked, her brow furrowing, and her lips parted just the slightest amount—it was as close to a jaw-dropping gape as one would ever see on Lexa’s face, and Clarke took pride in the fact that she had been the one to cause it.

Clarke took a step forward, raising her brows meaningfully. Silent under scrutiny, Lexa watched her approach—the initial surprise on her face fading, disappearing under her usual, infuriatingly impassive mask. “Well? What the hell do you want? Do you know what time it is?”

Lexa glanced away. Her jaw tightened, and she clasped her hands behind her back. “It is late,” she acknowledged. “I apologize for disturbing your sleep. I told you I would give you time to decide.”

“Oh,” Clarke frowned. Something like disappointment curled in her chest. Lexa had come on business. Of course she had. Clarke shouldn’t have expected anything different. She hadn’t. She _hadn’t_ expected differently and yet—and yet there was a part of her that was actually _upset_ that Lexa was honoring her boundaries.

Clarke leaned back on her heels and huffed out an aggravated sigh. “Right. Of course.”

For a moment, Lexa waited, seemingly expecting her to continue. When she didn’t, Lexa echoed her sigh. “Clarke. We no longer have the luxury of time. I need to know your decision. Will you or will you not join my Coalition?”

Truthfully, it wasn’t much of a decision. Clarke was stubborn, even bull-headed at times, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d known from the moment she’d been found by Keron and Aspen that this moment was inevitable. She could resent Lexa. She could hate her. She could never forgive her. But turning against her was not an option. It never had been.

“There’s nothing to decide,” she said, and she hoped her meaning was clear. She wasn’t doing this for Lexa’s sake. “I have to do what’s right for my people.”

Lexa raised her chin, her eyes as unreadable as they ever were. “Then you will join my Coalition.”

“Yes,” Clarke said. When Lexa merely nodded in reply, she scowled. “I don’t trust you. I haven’t forgiven you for Mount Weather.”

“I know,” Lexa said, and she didn’t sound particularly bothered.

Clarke wanted her to be, and hated that she wasn’t. More than that, she hated that she _cared_ whether or not Lexa wanted her forgiveness. Lexa betrayed her, left her for dead—no amount of groveling or apologies could make up for that, so why did a part of her _want_ Lexa to beg for her forgiveness?

Clarke shook her head in disgust, turning away from her. Lexa would never apologize, and Clarke didn’t know why she wasted time wondering whether or not she would. Maybe it was because she wanted assurance that Lexa was still human, was still the girl who had kissed her in that tent. Maybe it was because Clarke just wanted Lexa to show some remorse for what she’d done. Maybe it was because Clarke was no longer sure of what was and what wasn’t—had the kiss meant nothing? Or had her rejection sealed Clarke’s fate long before they ever stepped foot on that mountain?

If she had said yes, would Lexa have stayed? Would Lexa have fought for her? Had Lexa heard _“not ever”_ when she had said _“not yet”_? If she had been ready for something more, if she had made that leap—if she had caught Lexa when she fell, would Lexa still have had the mind to walk away from her?

“There is a ceremony.”

Clarke expected that. “Yeah. Get down on my hands and knees, I got it.”

“One knee,” Lexa corrected, like that somehow made it better. Clarke gave the other girl a withering look, and Lexa averted her eyes, turning to stare out the window at the courtyard outside, a courtyard bathed a soft, white-blue in the light of the moon. “It is just a ritual. It means nothing.”

“If it meant nothing, it wouldn’t be necessary,” Clarke groused. The idea of dropping to her knees—or _one_ knee—in front of Lexa made her want to scream. She was subservient to _no one_ , and _damn her_ for making her have to pretend that she was.

“We must stop this war before it begins.”

Clarke shook her head. She sensed Lexa’s approach rather than saw it. There was a buzz in her skin like her body was somehow aware of Lexa’s proximity before she was. The little hairs on her arms stood on end, reaching out for a warmth Clarke wouldn’t allow. Her own body was betraying her. “And you need the power of Wanheda. I got that. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“No, Clarke.” The softness in Lexa’s voice made Clarke stiffen, made her tense up and force herself to keep her eyes forward, to not give in and look at her—because she knew what she would see. She could look at the Commander and feel nothing but anger and hatred, but she couldn’t look at Lexa and feel anything but shattered.

“I need _you_.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if i need to actually say it or not, but this will be one hell of a slowburn. hopefully you guys don't mind it.   
> Thank you guys so much for all the comments and kudos so far. I'm not that confident in my writing so it means a lot to me to know you guys are enjoying it.   
> from now on I'll probably be updating on Wednesdays, but feel free to check me out on tumblr @c0mmanderclarke


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i'm sorry guys, but after 307 i just didn't have any motivation to write and even finishing this part was like pulling teeth but i decided to post what i have and maybe i'll get a bit more motivation if i see that people are still into this.

Clarke knew there was to be some sort of ceremony, because _of course there was_. Grounders never seemed to do anything half-assed, and christening a new addition to the Coalition was no exception. What she did not expect was that there was to be preparation for said ceremony, and that her entire day would be nothing _but_ preparation. Luna had told her, in no uncertain terms, that the ceremony was to be held at night. Luna had not told her that she was to be collected at dawn and spend every waking hour before the ceremony being manhandled by Lexa’s handmaidens.

When they told her she was to go to the tower for bathing, she had asked, “Can’t I just bathe here?” and they had _laughed_ at her, like the shit was _funny_. Raven had joked about her getting the royal treatment, and it seemed she wasn’t far from the truth.

On the Ark, showering was a short and very private affair. It took place in a separate room with a door, and—excepting certain circumstances, of course—it was done _alone_. Being on Earth had stripped that reservation from her almost entirely. There were no private rooms or shower doors on the ground, and given the dangers that lurked in every shadow and nook and cranny, bathing had quickly become a group event on the ground. But even then, there was a modicum of privacy: girls bathed apart, facing away from each other, and in the chill of the river and the ever-uncertain threat of whatever the _hell_ had bitten Octavia in that lake, bathing was a quick, no-nonsense event.

That Clarke was surrounded by handmaidens didn’t particularly bother her. That they thought her incapable of washing herself, however, _did_.

“I’m not a child,” she complained, when one of the women forcibly corrected the positioning of her head as she washed Clarke’s hair. “I can do this on my own.”

The handmaiden behind her yanked at a lock of hair—not strong enough to hurt, but strong enough that Clarke felt it and knew it to be a warning. The maidens at her sides tittered and shook their heads, _silly child_ , and pushed and pulled Clarke here and there and—

“That is _not_ necessary!”

 

* * *

 

When Clarke emerged from the bathhouses into the common room, literally _hours_ later, they were waiting for her. Octavia stood as soon as she entered, looked her up and down, and nodded approvingly.

“Grounder looks good on you,” Octavia said. Raven snorted behind her, but when Clarke looked at her, she had already plastered an all-too-innocent look on her face. “You ready for this?”

“No,” Clarke admitted, and sighed. She looked at the two of them, and her brow furrowed. “I’m assuming they didn’t give you the same treatment.”

“You’re the one who’s the Almighty Commander of Death,” Bellamy muttered. Clarke turned to face him—she hadn’t noticed him leaning against the wall in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest. He was still dressed in the same clothes he’d arrived in, and a dark scowl was painted over his face.

“You’re wearing that?” Bellamy was still dressed in the same clothes he’d arrived in.

Bellamy’s scowl darkened further. “I’m not the one playing grounder.” Octavia met his gaze and raised a singular brow in a silent challenge. “Let’s just get this over with.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was Clarke’s first time seeing Lexa’s throne room since coming to Polis, but it was hard to appreciate the beauty of it when she had such a sour taste in her mouth. Clarke knew, of course, that she would have to swallow her pride when she agreed to this. And truly, Clarke would do almost anything for her people—she had proven that, time and time again.

And yet still, seeing Lexa standing before her throne, waiting for her to bow before her, to get down on one knee and proclaim herself subservient to her, made her want to scream.

The others filed into room behind her, silent pillars of support. Clarke had to force herself not to look when Bellamy nearly halted mid-step, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a name.

A guard stepped in to hold out an arm, pushing the group behind Clarke back. “Only Wanheda approaches,” he said gruffly.

But Bellamy’s eyes weren’t on Clarke. “Kailan?” he whispered, blinking rapidly.

“Who what now?” Raven turned her head up to look at him, and he shook his head.

“Nothing, I just—“ he frowned. “That girl over there,” he jerked his chin in her direction—a girl standing quietly in front of one of the ambassador’s chairs, dressed in fine, dark clothing with only the barest hint of light armor over top, the kind that seemed more decorative than functional, perhaps the kind that only saw rituals rather than battle. The only thing about her that looked familiar was the white scarf wrapped around her neck, except the tails were now tucked into her collar rather than trailing along her shoulders. “I met her in the city. I thought she was—“

“Was what?”

“Normal,” he finished lamely. It sounded stupid even to him, coming out of his mouth. “I didn’t know she was important.” He frowned, peering at her. She had been petite before, but she appeared smaller standing at the side of who he assumed was the Ice Nation’s war chief. Large and hulking, he towered over many in the room, so much so that Kailan seemed but a child standing next to him.  

Octavia sent him a dry look. “She’s Ice Nation,” she said disdainfully. “Why the hell else would she be here?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, but his eyes did not leave her. She wasn’t looking at him—she was looking at _Clarke_ , and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He knew that Clarke was the focus here, that she was the reason they were all here to begin with—but there was something about the way Kailan watched her, something about the set of her eyes or her mouth that made it look like she was plotting something. Like she knew something they didn’t.

But then, he recalled, remembering the lunch they’d spent together, Kailan seemed to always have that sort of look on her face. He had taken it as confidence before, swagger even, but now in this room, with her looking at Clarke in that way, it was more unsettling than it was anything else.  

Clarke knew her cue when she heard it. The handmaidens had explained the ceremony to her in no uncertain terms, in between their tittering and gossip in the Grounder language they seemed to think she couldn’t understand—and maybe she didn’t understand all of it, but she knew enough that what she’d heard from them made her look at Lexa a little differently.

She had intended to go through this ceremony with her eyes down. Bowing to Lexa was enough of a hit to her pride. Doing so in a room full of people bearing witness to her prostration was worse. She had wanted to block everything out, to numb herself to her surroundings, to just _get this over with_ and be done with it and never have to think about it again or what it meant.

Now, as she approached, she couldn’t help but to look. She looked at the soft, flowing fabric of Lexa’s dress, at the red sash tied around her waist, at the low collar that dipped too low to be _decent_ , for god’s sake—at the way her collar and neck and too much of her chest was exposed. Open. Vulnerable. Clarke could not remember a time when she had seen Lexa in anything so casual. She’d only ever seen Lexa in armor, at war, and now she was faced with the sudden, startling realization that there was a girl underneath that armor.

Of course she’d _known_ that. Intrinsically. She’d known. But being faced with it was a different thing entirely, and there was a part of her that saw that openness and vulnerability and saw nothing but places to put a blade, places to strike, and then there was a part of her that saw it and could think of nothing but of a different sort of touch.

Clarke came to a stop, the distance between them too short and too long all at once.

Lexa looked at her, _gazed_ at her. Lexa stared at her like there wasn’t dozens of other people in the room. For a moment, Lexa was not the commander at all, and Clarke certainly couldn’t be the only person who could see right through her. The open adoration on the other girl’s face made Clarke’s breath catch in her throat. It was too much. Too soon.

Clarke dropped her eyes, dropped her head, dropped her knee. The movement came deceptively smooth, hiding the turmoil raging inside her.

_“Mounin,”_ the Commander intoned from above, voice firm and resolute and so much the opposite of everything that Clarke was feeling in that moment. Clarke only half-listened to the foreign words spilling from Lexa’s mouth. She understood few of them, but she already knew the meaning behind them. Lexa was announcing that Skaikru would officially be joining the Coalition.

Then, “Rise, _Klark kom Skaikru_ ,” and Clarke raised her head, and met Lexa’s gaze, and what she saw there made her breath catch in her throat. Lexa’s eyes were wide looking down upon her, wide and open and teeming with a such a furious swirl of emotions that Clarke couldn’t hope to identify them all. Guilt, awe, admiration, and something—something Clarke didn’t want to think about. Something Clarke _couldn’t_ think about.

Instead, she turned her eyes to her people. To Octavia, to Bellamy, standing stiffly amongst the crowd at the far side of the room. Octavia’s eyes were on her, and when she met them with her own, the girl gave her a sharp, curt nod. Bellamy’s eyes were elsewhere, flitting from one grounder to the next. His distrust was evident in every fiber of his being, tension and anxiety rolling off him in waves so strong Clarke could swear she could feel it even from the other side of the room.

“Wanheda.” Clarke turned her head at Titus’ approach. A long piece of metal with a tip blazing red-hot was held in one hand, his other hand raised, palm out. “The brand must be taken. To solidify Skaikru’s entrance into the Coalition.”

Clarke knew this. Luna had made certain to explain every facet of the inauguration process to her—and the handmaidens had reiterated it just in case she had forgotten. She knew this was coming, but no amount of prior knowledge could prepare one for the task of taking a brand onto your skin. The sight of the near-molten metal made goosebumps erupt over her bare arms.

Not trusting herself to speak without her voice shaking, Clarke nodded, and presented the inside of her arm to him. Titus’s eyes glanced behind her, and Clarke couldn’t help but to follow his gaze. Lexa’s eyes were guarded, her jaw tense and her back as ramrod straight as Clarke had ever seen it.

_Well_ , Clarke muttered inwardly, turning back to Titus, and the pain she was sure to soon face, _this is what she wanted. I’m hers, now_. Branded like cattle.

Clarke felt the heat of it before it touched her skin. Titus grabbed her wrist and held it steady, and with his other hand he brought the brand down slow and careful. She felt the burn before it touched her, and she wondered if it might have hurt less if he had just slammed it down on her skin without preamble—but as it was, she had to clench her teeth to keep from screaming when it touched her skin, and even then she couldn’t help the sharp hiss that escaped between her teeth. She didn’t even know which was worse, the pain of it, or the smell of her skin burning.

Logically, Clarke knew it to be only seconds. It felt like a lifetime. When Titus finally pulled the brand from her skin, she almost wished he’d put it back. The air hitting the fresh burn made it hurt _more_ , and she could feel sweat breaking out at her temples just from the effort of keeping herself from screaming.

“It is done,” Titus announced, and he repeated the same in Trigedasleng.

“We welcome Skaikru into the Coalition,” Lexa’s voice rose above them all. “What was once twelve is now thirteen. We have always been stronger united,” she said. “Let us continue to build upon that strength together, and strive for the peace we all so desperately desire. _Taim kik kongeda._ ”

_“Taim kik kongeda!”_ the hall echoed, and Clarke used the moment to take a sharp breath through her mouth. The sting of the burn on her arm only continued to grow in ferocity.

In moments, the ambassadors filed out of the room until it only Clarke, Lexa, Titus, and Octavia remained. Clarke didn’t have the capacity to wonder at Bellamy’s sudden absence, only to nod quickly, gratefully, when Titus called for the healer to treat her burn. Clarke knew from Luna that a healer would be nearby with salve and bandages following the ritual, but the woman appeared at her side so suddenly she wondered where the healer had been hiding during the ritual.

“Titus,” Lexa’s voice was firm, brooking no arguments. “Leave us.”

Titus glanced at Clarke once, nodded, and turned to go. He pulled a reluctant Octavia along with him, who sent a worried glance over her shoulder even as the doors closed behind them.

Left in the room with just Lexa and the healer and nothing and no one to buffer the stifling silence between them, Clarke was unsure of what to say. She didn’t know that she could say much of anything, really. What was there _to_ say? _Thanks for burning me and not killing all of my people, Lexa. Appreciate it._

“I’m sorry,” Lexa said quietly, approaching her with a kind of timidity that was unbefitting of one who called herself Commander. “I would have preferred you not taken the brand at all.”

Clarke met Lexa’s eyes, then sent a pointed glance at the healer.

“She will speak nothing of this,” Lexa affirmed. “Her loyalty is to me.” And the healer hummed in what Clarke supposed was agreement. “It was not my wish to mar your skin.” When Clarked looked up, Lexa’s eyes were on her—on everything. They darted from her face, to her neck, to her shoulders, to the brand on her arm, and back up all over again. “It was not my wish to hurt you.”

At that, Clarke couldn’t hold back a derisive snort. “A little late for that.”

“Clarke,” Lexa said, softly, and the look on her face was too much. Too much emotion, too much openness, too much vulnerability. Too much of things Clarke was not yet ready to face. “If I had—if there had been any other way,” she began, her voice halting and unsure. _I would have stayed_ , did not leave her lips, but Clarke heard it anyway, in the stammer of her voice and the softness of her eyes. “You have to know that.”

“I’m starting to think I don’t know much of anything,” Clarke muttered bitterly. The healer tightened the bandage a final time, patted it gently, and dipped her head as she removed herself from the room. “’If’ there’d been another way,” and Clarke looked up again, catching Lexa’s eyes. “There was another way. You could have stayed. You could have fought with me.”

“Our plan had failed, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice hardened minutely, hardly enough that anyone who did not know her as well as Clarke did might have noticed, but Clarke was _Clarke._ She had always been able to see through Lexa's mask, see beneath it. She had always been able to see Lexa where others would see only  _Heda_ , and this was no exception. Lexa was on the defensive, but her eyes were still as soft and—and pained as they had been moments before.

“My people were being cut down in the field by the dozens, by the _Maunon_ ’s weapons. Their leader offered me a way to save as many of my people as I could. We had no guarantee that the doors would ever open. We may have all died on that field.”

“And so you left me to die instead.”

Lexa closed her eyes, took a breath. “It is…not a decision I am proud of. But it is one that I had to make. My people come first, Clarke.”

“You’ve said that before.” Clarke shook her head. “What happens the next time it’s an ‘us or them’ situation? Are you just going to betray me again, the way you did before?”

“No,” and Lexa met her eyes, something in them silently pleading for Clarke’s understanding. “There is no ‘us or them’. Only ‘us’.” There was a weight to the statement that made Clarke’s heart skip a beat against her own will. _Only us_. _Us._

“Skaikru is the thirteenth clan. Your people are my people. When I say I must put my people first,” and Lexa stepped closer to her, her hand lifting as if to touch her—but it dropped just as quickly back to her side, as if she decided against it. Clarke almost wished she hadn’t. Almost. “I mean _our_ people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: this chapter actually had two more parts to it originally that would have likely made it 3x longer but... y'all have already waited over a month. next part we'll be getting into the meat of the oncoming conflict so... brace yourselves.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops there's plot. sort of. i think at this point we've surpassed "slow burn" and gone straight to "glacial".

 

Bellamy rushed out of the hall ahead of the others, following the crowd, craning his neck to find the one person he was looking for out of dozens. A warrior shoulder-checked him as he pushed his way through the crowd, weaving in and out of people, catching more than just a few annoyed glances along the way—but he had to find her.

“Kailan!” He called out, and a head turned, near the front of the crowd. It wasn’t Kailan, but the large, towering form of the war chief turning his head to look back at him, halting mid-step. But Kailan was beside him, and that was all he needed.

When he approached, the war chief looked him up and down, sneered, and sent a glance to Kailan. “Friend of yours, _gada_?”

Bellamy’s brow furrowed at the address. He wasn’t an expert on Trigedasleng, but he was fairly sure that _gada_ was an insult.

“Something like that,” Kailan answered, and her eyes turned to him. She seemed, as always, nonplussed, even at his sudden appearance. “Is there something I can do for you, Bellamy _kom Skaikru_?”

“That depends,” Bellamy said, crossing his arms. He watched as the last of the ambassadors and attendees of the ceremony filed down the hall ahead of them, until there were only stragglers picking their way past.

Kailan raised a brow. “On?” She sent a surreptitious glance at the lumbering man behind her. Wordlessly, the man grunted, turned, and stalked away.

“On who you _actually_ are,” Bellamy took a step closer, leaning into her space. “The only people in that room were pretty important people. You never told me exactly what you were doing here, and now you show up at the side of the Ice Nation’s general? Who are you, really?”

“I am an ambassador for the Ice Nation.”

“Funny how you didn’t think to mention that before.”

Kailan smiled. “Polis is always listening. This is the capital of Trikru, and my people generally aren’t very well treated here. Is it so bad that I try to blend in with the general populace when I’m out and about?”

“You seem to have an excuse for just about anything,” Bellamy leaned back, glaring at her. “I don’t trust you.”

“As you shouldn’t,” Kailan said, and Bellamy blinked. “Trust only those who have proven they are worthy of it. Haven’t you learned that lesson by now?” And her eyes flickered behind him, where he had left Clarke alone with Lexa in the throne room. “Am I the one you should really be concerned with? After all,” Kailan raised a singular brow at him, “I’m not the one who once left you and your friends to die.”

Bellamy watched her turn and walk away, and wanted to scream. Or punch something. Or do a little of both, actually—because damn it, she was _right_. He had wanted to trust Kailan because she had towed the party line he’d wanted to hear: that Lexa couldn’t be trusted as far as he could throw her. He wasn’t so sure he could trust Kailan either, but she had a point. Kailan had given him information he’d desperately wanted, while on the other hand…

Lexa had dragged Clarke and the rest of them into another war. And now the two of them were alone behind closed doors.

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Clarke looked up at Luna’s entry, and to be honest—the woman did actually look apologetic. She also looked troubled, and though Clarke hadn’t known Luna for very long, she knew that this could not mean anything good. Luna had been nothing but warmth and smiles since they’d met. To see her look so serious set Clarke on guard. “But we have a problem.”

Luna closed the door behind her, eyed the guards left in the room rather warily, and approached them. “One of our scouts just returned from the Northern border.”

Beside her, Lexa straightened. The walls came down. She was no longer Lexa, but the Commander, and the change was immediate and all-encompassing. “I wasn’t aware we had scouts so close to the Northern border.”

“You’ve always allowed our scouts a certain degree of leniency, Lexa, let’s not argue semantics.” Luna dismissed, shaking her head. Lexa’s jaw twitched, but she nodded.

“What is the problem, Luna?”

“There’s been a massacre.” Luna saw Lexa stiffening and held up a hand. “ _Not_ by the Ice Nation.”

“Then _who_.” It was a demand, not a question.

Luna’s eyes slid to Clarke. _“Skaikru_.”

“What?” Clarke turned her head to see that Lexa had stepped away from her, one hand on the hilt of her sword, brows low and gaze hard and looking at her like _she_ was the enemy. “Lexa. No. It can’t be. We don’t even _have_ people that far North—“

“Only your people use the _Maunon_ ’s weapons, Clarke,” Luna said softly. “There is no one else it could have been.”

“Wait,” Clarke said. “You said there was a massacre. Against who? If you weren’t even supposed to have scouts that far north then—“

Lexa’s eyes closed as she took a deep, steadying breath. “The Ice Nation,” she murmured lowly. “Skaikru attacked the Ice Nation.”

“It wasn’t us—“

“It doesn’t matter,” Luna interjected. “Whether they are truly your people or Mountain men who escaped your own massacre, your people will be blamed. And attacking the Ice Nation, at that,” Luna ran a hand through her hair, biting her lip. She looked a moment away from pacing like a caged animal. “It is pure luck that our scout made it back ahead of the Ice Nation. Once Kailan hears of this—“

Lexa barked out a word that Clarke had never heard before, but she was certain that it was a curse. She watched as the Commander turned on her heel and walked away from the both of them, towards the throne. She did not sit—merely reached it, and spun back around again. And Clarke feared what she saw on Lexa’s face: something like barely restrained panic.

“This is grounds for war.” Lexa said, her voice low, hardly more than a growl. “It is as Kailan said. Our people have gone to war for far lesser offenses than this. A massacre upon their people? How many have died, Luna?”

“Our scout guessed at least twenty,” Luna sighed. “He couldn’t get close for fear that Skaikru—“ she looked at Clarke, and amended, “that the attackers would see him. But it was a full hunting party. And that is only the carnage he managed to see. He said that these—people—shot them from a distance, before the warriors could get close. Then they crossed the border to finish the job. There may be more casualties we don’t know of yet. If they have these—what are they called?”

“Guns,” Clarke supplied, speaking around a lump in her throat that grew bigger by the second.

“If they have these guns, they may have ventured further into the Ice Nation. They may have gone after settlements near the border. Trade outposts, villages… There is no telling how many people they may kill. Or how many they have already killed.”

“Clarke.” Lexa turned to her. “You are certain these are not your people?”

“They can’t be.” Clarke shook her head, adamant. “We’ve been sticking to _our_ camp for the most part. They haven’t even been going far from Arkadia—there’s too many of your people who still want to kill us—clearly,” and she shot a dark glance at Luna, “and they’ve been sticking close for their safety and trying to shack up for the winter. Why would we send people that far north just to attack the Ice Nation? That would be suicide.”

“Yes,” Lexa hissed, “it _would_. The Ice Nation has the largest army of us all, and they are the most vindictive. When Kailan hears of this—“ Lexa looked to the ceiling, shaking her head. “This is all the reason she needs.”

“One of us should inform her,” Luna added. “If she hears this from her scouts and neither of us bothered to tell her, she will use this against us—“

“Lexa,” Clarke stepped close, desperate. “Is there any way we can keep this from escalating? It _wasn’t_ us. You have to believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Lexa admitted, and that was harder for Clarke to swallow than she thought it would be. She herself had said she didn’t trust Lexa anymore, _couldn’t_ trust her, but for some reason the notion that Lexa didn’t trust _her_ made her feel like a cold fist was closing around her heart. “And—“

A knock. Two knocks. Then three in quick succession.

Lexa closed her eyes. “It may be too late.” She jerked her chin at the guards, and they turned to open the double doors.

Behind them, as expected, was Kailan. As the woman—no, _girl_ , she was hardly older than Lexa or Clarke herself—marched into the room, Clarke realized it was the first time she’d gotten a good look at her. She didn’t have the scarification of most Ice Nation warriors Clarke had ever seen. She wasn’t even wearing war paint, or real armor. But even still, her presence was imposing, and the cold smirk on her face only served to amplify that.

“Pardon me,” Kailan said, spreading her arms wide. “Am I interrupting something, Commander?”

“Kailan,” Lexa said evenly. Her chin was up, expression carefully blank, but her eyes were hard and unforgiving. It did not take much to realize that Lexa was not overly fond of this ambassador. Even Luna looked like she had tasted something particularly unpleasant, if the slight wrinkling of her nose was any indication.

Kailan’s eyes slid from Lexa, to Clarke, to Luna. “Having a war meeting, are we?” She asked. “Perhaps you should have thought to invite the offended party.” And her eyes narrowed. “Were you going to inform me that my people had been slaughtered, or was your plan to simply wait and see if your… _ally_ ,” and Kailan said the word like an insult. She may as well have called Clarke a whore. “Could get away with it?”

“That was not our intention,” Luna broke in, speaking before Lexa even had the chance to respond. “These people were not allied with Clarke’s people. The ones who attacked you—they are their own faction.”

Kailan tilted her head, squinting at Luna like she didn’t quite understand what was being said. It took Clarke a moment to recognize the look for what it was. It was a look as though Luna were so unintelligent than Kailan was struck dumb herself. And it made Clarke bristle. It had only been a few days, but she had grown fond of Luna. The sudden instinct to rise up in her defense was still surprising.

“Really,” Kailan deadpanned, and she clasped her hands behind her back and raised a single, dubious brow. “So this…unrelated faction of invaders just so happened to gain access to Mountain men weaponry? Just so happened to approach _my_ border and attack _my_ people?”

“It is not your border,” Luna snapped. “You are not the Queen.”

“No,” Kailan shot back, and her voice dipped into a low growl. “And you should be glad that I am not, or her people would already be dead. Her included,” Kailan jerked her chin in Clarke’s direction, scoffing. “It is fortunate, then, that my Queen wants her alive.”

“Remember your place, Kailan,” Lexa growled.

“Remember _yours_ , _Heda_. _”_ Clarke’s eyebrows shot up. She looked from Kailan’s cold gaze to the barely restrained fury on Lexa’s face and could not believe that Lexa hadn’t torn this girl apart yet. She’d heard of the Balcony. She’d also heard of Lexa’s propensity for kicking people off of it. “It is your job to lead this Coalition. And yet you falter when this girl’s people attack and _kill_ nearly two dozen of my warriors, unprovoked.”

“Was it truly unprovoked?” Lexa questioned. “Your people are not known for their hospitality.”

Kailan sneered at her. “Had my people been close enough to provoke them, these Sky People would be dead. Yet they live on, and they move further into my territory. We have had to evacuate entire villages. Yet, she walks free. The leader of these people. And you wonder why your people have begun to lose faith in you.”

“Watch your mouth, Kailan,” Luna warned.

“You managed to hide your weakness after Costia, but that’s all it was. Hiding. And now, it’s rearing its ugly head once more. You speak of peace and unity, but you do nothing to protect _my_ people when they are endangered. And because of what? This _Skaiprisa_? If you are too compromised by your emotions, _Heda_ , step down and allow someone else to do your job for you.”

“In the meantime,” Kailan continued, her eyes turning to Clarke. “ _This one_ should be tried for treason. Her people carried out a massacre upon mine. This is grounds for war and you know it. Deliver her to me and I will consider letting this go.”

“No.”

Kailan turned back to her. “No,” she repeated, and it was more a statement than a question.

_“No_ ,” Lexa said again. Her eyes narrowed into a glare. “Clarke’s people have not left Camp Jaha. We have had scouts watching their camp since Mount Weather fell. You and I both know this. Or do you not remember the last war meeting you attended?” Kailan’s brows lowered over her eyes. “Whoever these people are, they do not follow Clarke’s order. We will deal with this accordingly.”

“Accordingly,” Kailan shook her head. “And what exactly would you suggest we do, Commander? Sit and wait while they raze one of my villages?”

“Listen,” Clarke was tired of standing idly by while they discussed her like she wasn’t standing right next to them. She was tired of being passed over and she was tired of Lexa allowing this—this _snake_ —to talk to her this way. She didn’t even _like_ Lexa at the moment and she still hated the way Kailan spoke to her. She almost wished Lexa would just deck her and get it over with. Kailan seemed like the kind of person who could do with a little humbling.

“Those were _not_ my people,” Clarke told her. “When the Ark came down, it split. Pieces of it broke off. You remember that,” she said to Lexa, to Luna, to them all. “Arkadia is just _one_ piece of it. There were a dozen stations up there. Another one might have survived the crash and landed close to Ice Nation territory. If that’s the case, they have _no idea_ what’s going on down here. They probably don’t even know this Coalition exists. We can’t fault them for defending themselves.”

“Defending themselves? Is that what your people call it?”

“Look, just—please,” Clarke took a breath. “Let us sort this out. We don’t have to be at each other’s throats about this. Do you really want more people to die?”

“Funny, coming from you,” Kailan said, almost lazily. “Are you not the one who killed hundreds to save less than fifty? Of course, I’m grateful to you. We’re certainly better off for their…eradication. But you’re hardly in the place to preach about the value of life when your own hands are stained so deeply.”

“And you are?” Lexa countered, stepping forward. “Your hands are just as stained as hers.”

“On the contrary, Heda, I’ve kept my hands rather clean.”

“Costia begs to disagree.” Luna interjected.

“Ah,” Kailan clicked her tongue and shook her head. “No, no, my friend. Costia never begged.” Her mouth curled into a cruel smirk. “Wouldn’t even say ‘please’ when I—“

Lexa moved so quickly, Clarke almost didn’t see her. One moment Lexa was at her side, the next Lexa had grabbed Kailan by her scarf and thrown her against the door. “One more word and I make sure you never speak again.”

“Explain that to the Queen,” Kailan growled back, but despite the venom in her words, Clarke could hear a tremble in her voice. And she almost smiled. She felt nauseous at the thought that a threat to someone’s life would bring her joy, but Kailan was of the worst sort of people. The world will only be better without her. Lexa would be better without her.

“Your Queen is too much of a coward to even show her face in my court.” Lexa hissed. “Don’t fool yourself into believing you are not just as expendable as all the rest.” At once, Lexa pressed her harder against the door, her hand tightening around Kailan’s neck. She gave Kailan a once over, curling her lip like the sight of her disgusted her. “Perhaps even more so.”

Clarke could see Kailan stiffen from where she stood, could see the twitch of her jaw and the hardening of her eyes.

“You think your queen sent you here to unseat me,” Lexa murmured. “Perhaps it is you she wished to be rid of.”

Kailan’s lips curled into a sneer. “You need me if you hope to avoid war,” she managed, and with Lexa’s hands around her throat, her voice was hardly more than a rasp. “Kill me now and you sentence your people to death.”

With a final, hard shove, Lexa released her. “And that is the only reason you yet still live.”

One of Kailan’s hands came up to her neck, pressing against the fabric wrapped there, massaging the throat beneath it. It could have just been the heat of the moment, but Clarke could swear her hand was trembling.

“Get in contact with your scouts, Kailan,” Lexa ordered. “I want a final tally.”

“My people demand retribution.”

“And they may have it,” Lexa bit out. “ _When_ I have all the details. Now get out before I change my mind about leaving your tongue where it lies.”

Kailan’s eyes narrowed back at her, but she hardly spared Clarke and Luna a glance as she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

When the door closed, Lexa took a breath, and let it out in one long, shuddering sigh.

“She will remember this,” Luna said softly.

“I know.”

“You let her get to you again.”

“I _know_ , Luna.” Lexa snapped.

“I don’t understand,” Clarke said. She was trying to, really. But she’d seen grounders get into fights over a misstep. She’d seen Lexa order the execution of Octavia just for the suspicion that she might put them in danger. It didn’t make sense that Kailan was still alive.

“Kailan has done _nothing_ but disrespect you since I’ve met her. And she—“ she bit her lip, wondering if she should say it. “And she’s the one responsible for Costia’s death, isn’t she?”

Lexa would not look at her, but the expression on Luna’s face told her all she needed to know.

“Why is she still alive? You tried to have Octavia killed before she’d even done anything wrong and yet—“

“I can’t, Clarke.” And Lexa exchanged an unreadable glance with Luna. It was one of those looks that spoke volumes, a silent conversation exchanged between the eyes of two people who knew each other well enough that words were unnecessary. It was a look Clarke couldn’t hope to understand, and that realization sent a lance of irrational anger to the pit of her stomach. That had been her, once. At a time, she had been the one who Lexa turned to. Now she wondered if she would ever be that person again. If she even _could_ be. (And she hated herself for even caring.)  

Luna took a sudden breath, closing her eyes. “We should have known.”

“Should have known _what_?”

“Kailan is a nightmare to deal with,” Luna told her. “She’s made Lexa’s life a living hell since she got here, but—“

Lexa shook her head. “She is merely a pawn in the Queen’s game. I can’t hold her responsible for acting on the orders of her queen.”

Clarke stared at her. “Yes, you _can_.” Lexa was the _Commander_. She was _Heda_. The Queen operated under Lexa. There was no discernible reason why someone like Kailan should be let off the hook for obeying her queen when Lexa was the one with the power. She never thought she’d be calling for someone’s death, but this was ridiculous. 

“Clarke,” Lexa gave a minute shake of her head once more, her eyes pleading. “Don’t fight me on this. We have too much else to worry about than Kailan. She was right. We will need her if we hope to quell a Northern rebellion.”

“Their chief is as dumb as a rock. He follows Kailan, for all he seems to dislike her.” Luna turned to Lexa. “Heda, how do you plan to handle this?”

“We can go to my people,” Clarke suggested. “That station had to have landed somewhere near the Ice Nation. My mom told me they’d been looking for other survivors. They have some way to track the signal. We track the signal, we might find where they’re holed up. And then we can deal with them,” she said, but she did not say how.

“You would offer up your people so freely?” Lexa asked, turning to face her. “That is unlike you.”

Clarke frowned back at her, hearing the words that Lexa did not say. Lexa expected her to defend these people with her life. She wasn't wrong. Lexa had never been stupid. “They’re not Skaikru,” she responded. “They’re—I don’t know who they are. I don’t know why they decided to attack the Ice Nation. It could have been a mistake, or, just—maybe they were trigger happy.”

Luna and Lexa exchanged a dubious glance. “The Skaikru are like children,” Luna said. “Did your own people not attack Trikru when you landed?”

“Yes, and we were stupid,” Clarke admitted, holding back an eye roll. They’d all made mistakes. She didn’t need to be reminded of her shortcomings. She got enough of that from the others. “But we _learned_. If we can track them down, we can give them a chance to learn, too.”

“Blood demands blood, Clarke,” Luna said softly. “Kailan will call for their execution.”

“This doesn’t have to end in death.”

“Perhaps not,” Lexa agreed, and Clarke raised her brows, surprised by that admission. When it had come to Finn, she had been unwavering. Now suddenly there were alternative options? “But you may find yourself wishing that it did. The Ice Nation is not above more…creative punishments,” she said haltingly. “Would you rather your people be tortured for their crimes?”  _Well._ That explained that.

“If it avoids war?” Clarke took a breath. “Yes. If that’s what it takes. Will you or won’t you let me go to Arkadia?”

“Wanheda offering up her own people may help assuage some of the anger,” Luna added. “It would show that Skaikru is willing to own up to their crimes, and that they still bow to the Coalition. This may work in our favor.”

“It would also prove that you are still impartial.” Clarke added. “I’ve heard the rumors, Lexa. People think you’re weak because you’ve let my people into the Coalition. If they see us submitting to _your_ justice, they’ll know you’re in control.” She couldn’t smile, couldn’t bring herself to, but she felt the smallest inkling of something like victory creeping into the back of her mind.

“Kailan’s plans to start a war would backfire.”

Lexa shook her head, turning away. She looked seconds from starting to pace again. “This is too easy,” she muttered. “There’s something we’re missing.”

“Kailan isn’t omnipotent, Lexa. She couldn’t have planned this whole thing. It just happened to work in her favor. This time.” Luna touched Lexa’s arm, stopping her before she could begin to wear a rut into the floor. “Let Clarke turn this back on her.”

“Let me,” Clarke said, and she stepped closer, dipping her head to catch Lexa’s eyes. “Let me fix this.” Lexa’s eyes were still stormy, still troubled. Clarke could see her mind racing behind them, could see the gears whirring at full speed within. Clarke could see the burden of command, the burden of holding thousands of lives in her hands—the burden they both shared. There was a level of connection she had with Lexa that Clarke couldn't hope to deny. At least in this case, it worked in her favor. 

_“Lexa.”_ The softness of her own voice surprised her. Gentle and coaxing, it beckoned Lexa to her. Begged for Lexa to hear her, to see her, to _understand_ her. Begged for a connection that had once been severed. “Please. You brought me here because you said you needed me to stop a war. Let me do what you brought me here to do. Let me fix this. _Let me help you.”_

Lexa blinked, eyes widening. It took Clarke a moment to even realize why Lexa was looking at her like she’d grown a second head, and then it hit her. _Let me help you_.

Blinking rapidly, Clarke bit her lip, unable to hold Lexa’s stunned gaze any longer. “I just…let me try to keep this from escalating, Commander.” When she glanced back at up, Lexa was staring at her, her gaze soft and open and _sad_. And Clarke hated the fact that her gut clenched when she saw it, that her heart ached for her. She hated the fact that she wanted to be angry. She wanted to hold onto that anger, to that betrayal, to that hatred that had fueled her in all this time they'd spent apart since the Mountain. But she wasn't sure if she could anymore. The anger that had once boiled in her veins was now slipping through her fingers like water. 

“Very well,” Lexa straightened, her posture as stiff as her voice, and Clarke could practically see the chasm widening between them as Lexa finished with, “ _Wanheda_.”

And Lexa—no, _Heda_ —marched out of the room, her coat billowing behind her. Clarke watched her go, and she should have been relieved to see her leave. She should have been glad for the respite, for the chance to catch her breath, for the chance to rebuild her walls and remember why she hated Lexa. To remember why she was angry with her. But all she could see was the distance widening between them, and all she could feel an ache to reach across it. The more time she spent here, the more time she spent with Lexa, with the girl she—with _her_ , the more Clarke’s walls began to crumble.

And she didn’t know if she had the strength to keep rebuilding them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: everyone goes on a field trip. it's not entirely pleasant. 
> 
> find me on tumblr @damneliza and talk to me about things and stuff because i'm vain and also i like knowing what y'all think.   
> thanks for all the love so far. i hope you guys continue to enjoy it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter got away from me a little. whoops. have a 6k update on me.

               

 

There were nearly twenty people gathered around the gates of Polis, and Clarke could practically sense the eyes of many others peering out of their windows and doors, but the silence encompassing them was so pervasive that she could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. She shifted, uncertain, her eyes flitting to Raven and Bellamy first. Raven looked halfway between amused and irritated and maybe a little pained—she leaned heavily against Bellamy, who was radiating impatience to the point that it looked like it was physically ailing him to keep his mouth shut. His jaw worked as he chewed the inside of his cheek, dark eyes turning from one grounder to the next, to Clarke, and back again. Octavia was at Clarke’s side, rocking on her heels and shaking out her hands like she was itching for a fight. Or maybe just to _move_ , to leave, to do _something_ other than stand there staring at one another.

It seemed like hours before Lexa spoke.

“What,” she started, her words slow and cautious and carefully crafted, “is that.”

It was more of a statement than a question, but it was one Clarke wasn’t sure how to answer. “It’s…” she hesitated, eyes dropping to Lexa’s hand, flexing around the hilt of her sword. Lexa’s fingers tightened around the grip until her knuckles turned white, then released, one by one, stretching, feeling, searching—and then tight, tight, tighter, all over again. There was a rigidity in her form that Clarke hadn’t seen since—well. Hadn’t seen for a while.

“It’s our _ride_ ,” Raven interjected, rolling her eyes and taking a lumbering step away from Bellamy that had him overcorrecting his own posture in the absence of her weight against his side. For a moment, he floundered, looking like a fish out of water. Then he shifted, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched them—the grounders, and Raven. He didn’t seem to know who needed his attention more.

Lexa circled the front of the jeep, eyes narrow and her jaw tight. “This?” She peered down at the muddied wheels. “Where are your horses?”

“All here, baby,” Raven said, slapping a hand on the hood of the car.

The metallic _thunk_ startled the grounders nearby, and Clarke heard more than one sword leave its sheath. The sight of swords at the ready made Raven freeze, look around, and place one of her hands in the air.

“I am not your ‘baby’,” Lexa replied tersely. “And this is—“

“A monstrosity,” drawled the last voice Clarke wanted to hear.

It was a full-bodied effort to hold in the long-suffering groan that threatened to erupt from her mouth. Clarke took a moment to close her eyes and breathe before she turned to face her. “Kailan. What are you doing here?”

“Bearing witness to a nightmare, apparently,” Kailan replied, look at the jeep like she expected it to jump to life at any second. “This is how your people travel?”

“It’s a lot quicker than horses,” Bellamy said. “We can get to Arkadia in a few hours and up to the border before nightfall.”

“ _If_ we have enough gas,” Raven reminded him. “And _if_ it can even run up there,” she shook her head. “What’s it like in the Ice Nation?”

“Cold.” Kailan deadpanned. “You’re not going to the Ice Nation, you’re going to the border. Unless you’d like to be killed on the basis of trespassing, that is.” She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket, looking at the lot of them disdainfully. “Might make my life a bit easier, but I imagine that isn’t the endgame you had in mind.”

“No,” Clarke said. “It isn’t.” Then she looked around at all the grounders gathered around her and sighed. “We only have one jeep. We can’t fit all these people in here.”

“It’ll be a tight fit, but we can fit a few more than what we came with,” Raven said. “Lexa and Luna, maybe a couple others.”

“Luna has to stay here.” Lexa said. “She’ll watch over Polis while I’m away.”

Kailan threw a smirk in Luna’s direction. “Try not to let the city burn down in our absence, would you?”

“’ _Our_ ’?” Clarke repeated. “What makes you think you’re coming with us?”

Lexa worked her jaw. “It would be…beneficial for her to come. Having an Ice Nation delegate at our side would prove our party to be one of diplomacy rather than invasion.”

Kailan quirked a brow, tilting her head as if to say, _see. She gets it._  

Bellamy jerked his head in the direction of the party of warriors gathered around them. “And what about them?”

“They will meet us at the border,” Lexa said dismissively.

The next few minutes were some of the most awkward Clarke had endured since she’d arrived in Polis. The grounders watched them all suspiciously as seating arrangements were made. Raven was quick to claim her seat— _“I’m the driver_ ”, she’d said, halfway into her seat already. With a roll of his eyes, Bellamy had climbed into the passenger seat without saying a word. Which left the rest of them to file into the back through the hatch.

That it was a military vehicle made it slightly more spacious than it may have been otherwise, but with herself, Lexa, Kailan, and Octavia—as well as two guards who refused to allow Lexa to travel without them despite the green pallor to their faces—it was still a tight fit. And somehow, _of course_ , Clarke wound up in the seat directly next to Lexa, sandwiched between the partition between the front and back of the jeep, and Lexa herself. Opposite her were Kailan and Octavia—Octavia closest to the hatch, Kailan seated directly behind Raven. She’d adjusted quickly to the jeep, it seemed, leaning back with one leg crossed over the other and looking impatient for them to get going. The final two guards took the not-quite seats in the middle as Octavia reached over and pulled the hatch shut behind them.

The change in atmosphere was almost immediate. Lexa tensed so suddenly beside her that Clarke could _sense_ it in the air around her, and when she looked, the woman was rigid in her seat, brow furrowed but face suspiciously blank.

“How long will this ride take?” Lexa asked of her, low under her breath.

“A few hours,” Clarke said. She almost felt bad for her. Being in a cramped space like this couldn’t be comfortable for someone who was used to open air. For her, it was like home. For the grounders, it must have felt like a cage. “It won’t be that long.”

“We could sing songs in the meantime,” Raven suggested, just as the jeep lurched into drive. Clarke almost snorted at the way Kailan jerked and grabbed at the back of Raven’s seat to steady herself. She might have, if Lexa hadn’t also tensed beside her.

“No,” came a chorus of every voice besides Raven’s.

“Well, fine then,” Raven muttered. “I Spy, with my little eye—something green.”

A groan from the passenger seat. “Lemme guess. The grass or the trees.”

“I was gonna say Lexa’s eyes, but that works.”

 

 

Clarke wished she could say she was happy to see the walls of Camp Jaha—well, Arkadia, as it they called it now. But the feeling curling in the pit of her stomach was the furthest from happiness. Seeing Arkadia looming in front of them filled her with a sense of dread and anxiety. Arkadia wasn’t home to her anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time.

She hated to even admit it, but she’d felt more at home in Polis than here, and she’d spent the majority of her time there on the edge of her seat, feeling like she wanted to bolt for the woods at the next opportunity.

“Last stop,” Raven called out, and there was another lurch as she shifted the jeep into park and pulled the emergency brake. “Everybody out.” She leaned over, glaring back at the two nameless grounder guards who had joined them. “Especially you two. If you hurl in my backseat—“

Normally, the veiled threat might have had the grounders up in arms, but the two of them looked on the verge of sickness. Lexa, at least, was fairing moderately better—she didn’t look ill, for all her obvious discomfort at sitting in a cramped space for so long. As soon as Octavia opened the hatch, the two grounders spilled out almost bonelessly, lurching away from the jeep on weak legs and weaker stomachs.

“For god’s sake,” Kailan rolled her eyes, following Octavia out. Her snark was as sharp as ever, but Clarke hadn’t missed how pale Kailan had been during the ride itself. Enclosed spaces were something of a discomfort to every grounder, it seemed. Octavia fit in with them in more ways than one.

“Clarke!” She heard her mother’s voice before she saw her, and sighed at the elation she heard in it. Abby wouldn’t be happy for long when she learned that Clarke wasn’t staying. “I didn’t expect you to be back so—“ and Abby’s voice trailed off as she spotted Lexa climbing out of the back behind her. Somehow Lexa managed to make even that undignified movement look graceful.

“Soon,” Abby finished, eyes narrowing. “Is there a reason you brought her here?”

“Mom,” Clarke sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I really don’t have time to explain all this. Raven said you had a way to detect the other stations?”

Abby blinked, eyes snapping to hers. “You found another station? Near Polis?”

“Near the Ice Nation.” Clarke corrected.

“Some band of hunters was attacked by people with guns,” Octavia supplied. “We think one of the stations might have landed up there. We need to find it.”

“Preferably _before_ another war breaks out,” Clarke said, and her weariness seeped into the tone of her voice.

“I thought that was why you went to Polis.” Abby looked at Lexa. “Wasn’t that why you wanted her there? So she could fix your mess?”

Clarke expected Lexa to snap at her. To fight back. To defend herself. To say that Lexa’s resigned silence surprised her was an understatement.

“This is something else.” Clarke said, in the wake of the tense silence that fell over them. “We can’t expect to be part of the Coalition if our people are attacking grounders without reason. We have to go find out what happened there and keep them from starting a war they can’t finish.”

“Finally, someone with sense,” Kailan drawled. “I can see why the Commander is so fond of you.”

Abby shot the girl a sharp look. “And you are?”

“Ice Nation ambassador. Also known as, the only reason your people have not been wiped out already. Now, if we could skip the small talk and get down to business, we might make it to the border before nightfall.” Kailan sent a glance in Clarke’s direction. “I do suggest we move quickly. My people have a penchant for nighttime surprises.”

“Of course they do,” Clarke muttered. _Of course_ the Ice Nation would favor guerilla tactics.

“Say what you will. My people know how to pick their battles. Should you wish your people to survive the night, I suggest you get going.” Kailan clapped her hands twice. “Chop, chop.”

“…How do you not strangle her?” Clarke muttered.

“It is a constant battle.” Lexa replied, without missing a beat.

 

 

 

            Arkadia was too much like Mount Weather for Lexa to be entirely comfortable with her surroundings. That the residents of said _Maunon-_ like village stared at her with something bordering between suspicion and outright disdain made the experience all the more disconcerting. It was not that she cared terribly what the Sky People thought of her, but rather what she worried they might do. Trying to solidify an alliance with people who actively despised you was often a harrowing venture. She had learned that much from dealing with the Ice Nation years ago. And in some ways, in dealing with them now.

Raven, Bellamy, and Octavia had made off for what they called Raven’s workshop—Kailan, curiously, had chosen to tag along. Lexa didn’t know why Kailan was interested in their technology, but she knew it could be nothing good.

“I’m not sure it’s the best idea to allow Kailan around your weapons,” Lexa murmured.

“Our weapons are locked up,” Abby provided, before Clarke could even answer her. She hadn’t meant for the woman to overhear her. “Only the guards have access to them.” Abby’s eyes narrowed at her. “Is there something about this Kailan I should know?”

“She’s…difficult,” Clarke answered. “She’s also from the Ice Nation.”

“I heard that part,” Abby retorted. “I thought you grounders had a thing against technology.”

“We do,” Lexa’s lips tightened. “But should Kailan find reason to declare your people a threat…”

“We’re not a threat,” Abby said. “We’ve kept to the terms of the alliance,” she said, pursing her lips. “Which is more than we can say for you.”

Lexa closed her eyes briefly. She had expected this. Clarke had been much the same. In many ways, she still was. There were times when she thought Clarke might be warming to her, only for the girl to turn cold the next instant. It seemed the apple did not fall far from the tree.

“I understand your…hesitation,” Lexa said slowly. “However, it does us no good to dwell on the past. Here and now, you and I—our people—we are on the same side. Neither of us want war. If we wish to avoid that, we will need to work together.”

“Should have thought about that before you left us to die.”

_“Mom_ ,” Clarke hissed. “Now is not the time. We need to get that tracker and get going. We don’t have time for you two to hash it out right now.”

Lexa wasn’t familiar with the phrase, but she could guess what it meant.

“Raven should have it,” Abby said. “Why don’t you go and find her? The Commander and I need to have a little chat.”

Lexa caught the strange look Clarke shot her, but she didn’t acknowledge it. She had a feeling she knew what this was about, even if Clarke did not. “Go, Clarke,” she said, and Clarke’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Your mother will be safe with me.”

Clarke’s lips pulled into a frown. “That wasn’t what I was worried about.” This time, Lexa did look at her. Perhaps Clarke _did_ know what this so-called “chat” was about. And she didn’t look entirely pleased. “But fine, I’ll go.” She looked at Abby. “We have to leave soon. It won’t be as easy to drive in the dark, and we still have a few hours to go before we reach the border. Don’t keep her too long.”

Abby raised a singular brow at her, but nodded.

And then Clarke was gone.

The silence that fell over the two of them in her absence was oppressive, heavy. Lexa could feel its weight pressing against her at all angles. The feeling was unpleasant, and it was a feeling that Lexa was anything but accustomed to. She was used to having command of a room. Suddenly here, with Abby—with Clarke’s mother—she felt the cold fingers of anxiety crawling up her spine.

“Commander,” Abby said.

“Abby,” Lexa responded, for lack of anything else to say. She wasn’t sure what Abby wanted from her. She wouldn’t offer an apology for what she’d done. She had done what was best for her people in the moment. She would not apologize for performing her duty. She would not apologize for something she did not, and could not, regret.

“Sit down.”

“I’d rather stand.” Lexa straightened, clasping her hands behind her back. “What is it that you wish to discuss?”

“I think you know,” Abby said. And Lexa did—sort of. She knew it had to do with Clarke. With Mount Weather. With her. “What exactly are you planning?”

Lexa pursed her lips. “I’m not sure I understand your question. What am I planning in regards to what? You are well aware of the situation with the Coalition.”

“Not that.” Abby took a step closer. The woman was more than a few inches shorter than her, but somehow the way she looked at Lexa made her seem taller, like she was looking down at her from above. “Clarke.”

“…What about Clarke?”

“You know what I mean, Lexa. I’ve seen the way you look at my daughter. She might not notice it, but I do. I’m a mother. I know these things.” Abby shook her head. “You’re the last person I want anywhere close to her. You’ve hurt her enough already.”

Lexa took a breath. “Yes.” She agreed. She took no pleasure in the surprise that flashed across Abby’s face. “I have. And I understand your reservations. But,” Lexa could not remember the last time she had felt this nervous, this anxious, this uncertain. It must have been years. Years, since Costia. “Hurting her was never my intention. My duty to protect my people comes first.”

“And what about the alliance?” Abby pressed. “Does that not make us ‘your people’?”

Lexa’s jaw worked. “It does now,” she answered. “Our people entered into a truce. Before, the Sky People were not of the Coalition. If I had sacrificed my people for merely a chance at saving yours, I would have been removed from power long ago.”

“I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.”

Lexa tilted her head. “Would you rather the Ice Queen control the armies of the twelve clans? You may believe that my people are ruthless and unforgiving. Should the Ice Queen control the Coalition, she will slaughter you and your people.”

“And what makes you so sure of that?” Abby asked. “From what I’ve heard, they have a point. You betrayed us. How can you expect us to trust you again after what you did at Mount Weather?”

“I don’t,” Lexa answered frankly. Abby blinked. “I will not ask for you to trust me again. I only ask that you understand that the Ice Queen at the helm of the Commander is something neither of us want. I know this because I know _her_.”

Lexa took a step closer, lowering her voice. “When I was a child, when the previous Commander fell, before the Coalition was formed—the Ice Queen wished to rise to power. To control the Nightbloods, who would join the Conclave to decide the next commander. She and her army razed village after village. They killed mothers and fathers both, only leaving the children alive to take prisoner. Those who were not Nightbloods were found scattered across our lands, beaten and maimed to the point of being unrecognizable.”

“When I was chosen to be Commander, I vowed to bring the clans together. Too many had died in the name of petty differences. I united the twelve clans in hopes for peace.” Lexa paused. “I allied my people with the Ice Nation even after she tortured and killed the most important person in my life. She sent me her head in a box.”

Abby’s mouth dropped open, closed, then opened again. The woman was at a loss for words—and truth be told, that is what Lexa had hoped for. That is why Lexa had told her.

“I did this to protect my people. I had sworn a vow. Do you think I wished to ally with them, after what they had done?” Abby had no answer, and Lexa had not expected one.

“My point, Abby, is that as much as you may disagree with me, as much as you may distrust me,” Lexa said, “I am the lesser of two evils. I will not lay claim to sainthood. We have all done things we are not proud of. I can’t apologize for saving my people at Mount Weather. I will not. But if you think it is a decision I take pride in, you are sorely mistaken. I did what had to be done. I did what was expected of me as Commander. I cannot act upon my own personal feelings. That is a luxury that is not afforded to me.”

For a long, uncomfortable moment, Abby was silent. Then, “…And my daughter?” She asked. “Will you act on _those_ feelings?”

Lexa swallowed. “…No,” she said slowly. “Clarke is…special,” she managed. It was perhaps the biggest understatement she had ever uttered. Clarke was more than special. She was everything. “But she is not mine. She has not forgiven me. Nor do I expect her to. I brought your people into my Coalition because I—“ she took a breath, closing her eyes. This was not something she had ever expected to say out loud—not to Clarke’s mother, at any rate. “I cannot make that choice again.”

Abby looked at her, and there was a sudden softness in her eyes. A realization. “You love her.”

“…Yes,” Lexa admitted.

“You joined our people so you would never have to choose between protecting her, and protecting them.”

“Yes,” she said again.

Abby searched her eyes, her face, scrutinizing her. Looking underneath the underneath. Trying to see beneath the mask. Like mother, like daughter. It was not surprising, then, that Abby could read her almost as well as Clarke. Perhaps it was genetic.

“I understand you, Lexa.” Abby said slowly. “As much as I don’t want to…I do. I understand you.” She reached out and grabbed at Lexa’s arm, grasping it beneath the elbow in an imitation of a warrior’s handshake. “Swear to me, now. Swear that you will never hurt her again.”

Lexa hesitated for only a moment before she closed her own hand around Abby’s arm. “I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to protect her.” A beat. A whisper. “I lost her once,” she breathed. “I cannot lose her again.”

Abby nodded. “Then we have an understanding, Commander.” She tightened her grip on Lexa’s arm. “But understand this. If you do ever hurt her again—I don’t care who you are. I will end you myself.”

Lexa almost smiled. “I would expect no less.”

 

* * *

 

 

They didn’t make it as far as they’d hoped with the jeep. The ice nation was much further north than they had all expected, but the Grounders who had travelled ahead of them were not so far removed from their party. Clarke figured there must have been scouts in the trees, as it seemed they had not been walking very long at all until they were met with what might have been called a convoy—a small band of warriors, each sitting upon a horse and leading a second alongside them.

From that point onward, the going was faster, if not a bit more awkward. The only one of them who seemed at all comfortable on horseback was Octavia, which, in retrospect, was perhaps the least surprising thing that had happened since Clarke had been pulled into this clusterfuck in the first place.

Lexa called herself holding the reigns of Clarke’s own horse, guiding him where she could not. Had Clarke not been so tired, and so unfamiliar with horses, she might have protested. As it was, she was at least a little relieved she was not as bad off as Bellamy.

Bellamy had accepted help for all of two minutes before taking matters into his own hands, and every so often he’d fumble at the reigns enough that the horse below him would whicker and shift suddenly beneath him—and without fail, one of the grounders would inevitably bark at him for being too rough with it. Clarke often didn’t understand their low mutterings behind Bellamy’s back, but she knew by tone alone that they weren’t exactly complimenting his horseriding capabilities.

To Clarke’s surprise, Kailan had offered to ride with Raven. Not that she’d initially accepted, as there was something about Kailan and “help” that didn’t belong in the same sentence together, but after a couple of hours the girl was sore enough to give in, and now she sat comfortably side saddle behind the ambassador, holding onto the back of the saddle for balance. They had even had an almost amicable chat at one point, if you could call a sass off such a thing. Raven might have met her match.

“We’re getting close,” Kailan said, breaking what had been the most comforting silence Clarke had experienced since Polis. It was strange, how quickly Clarke had reaccustomed herself to the presence of others, after so long alone. To the presence of Lexa at her side.

“We took too long,” Clarke murmured, peering up at the sky. The night was black enough that it seemed the horses moved on instinct alone, and the moon was high above their heads, the only source of light along their journey. Night had fallen hours ago, and it seemed unnatural that such a journey—a journey to stop a war in the making—would have such ethereal lighting and all around peaceful atmosphere. It was a shining example of the dichotomy of life on the ground. Light and dark, peace and war, good and bad.

“We won’t be able to find them in this light.” The radar device at her hip still beeped rhythmically every few minutes, and had been increasingly rising in tempo since they’d left the jeep behind. Even still, some part of Clarke doubted that the other Arkers would even be at the station when they arrived. Would they have made it a homebase, as they had with the dropship? Or would they have moved on, and found their own way somewhere else? If they had, could they even hope that there was a trail left behind to follow after all this time?

“We can make camp at the border.” Lexa said.

It was another hour before Kailan stopped them. At once, they all dismounted—Raven with the help from Bellamy, who dropped from his horse and lurched pathetically over to her, looking a bit like he’d had an unfortunate experience with acrobatics. Clarke could sympathize—her legs were like jelly, aching from so long of straddling the wide back of a horse.

The grounders made camp in mere minutes, and soon there was a roaring fire and pallets laid about it, while a few others worked on raising a large tent Clarke could only assume was Lexa’s.

Clarke had never felt so useless as when watching the grounders set up camp. They moved like the cogs of a gear, without any direction from Lexa herself, while Lexa went to tether the horses to nearby trees, running her hands over the flank of each one, surprisingly tender. Bellamy and Raven had fairly collapsed near the fire, the two of them leaning tiredly against each other, hardly even managing to stay upright. Clarke wasn’t sure when they’d become so close, but she was glad that they, at least, had someone.

Kailan had gone to fish some kind of smoked jerky out of her pack, and offered it to anyone who accepted—of which there were few. Clarke herself waited until she’d seen Kailan eat a piece of her own before she gratefully took a few pieces to quell the raging hunger in her stomach. Even with Kailan’s surprising kindness towards Raven, Clarke didn’t trust the girl as far as she could throw her, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried at poison.

“Clarke,” Lexa called her name, startling her out of her reverie. “Will you be sleeping by the fire?”

Clarke gave her an odd look. “Where else would I be sleeping?”

Lexa’s eyes shifted behind her, and then _she_ shifted, her mask dropping for just long enough for Clarke to see the hesitation and uncertainty on her face. “I’ve had an extra pallet set up in my tent,” Lexa said slowly, and Clarke’s eyebrows raised incredulously. “You are welcome to use it, should you want shelter from the elements.”

“Does no one else get a tent?” Clarke questioned. “Or is that simply a luxury afforded to the Commander?”

Lexa’s lips tightened. “It is not by choice,” Lexa said. “It is tradition.” Then she shook her head, her posture straightening, the mask falling back into place. “The offer is open, should you choose to take it.”

Clarke said nothing as Lexa turned on her heel and walked swiftly away from her. A part of her hated the fact that her eyes were drawn to the way Lexa’s coat billowed around her legs, the way it flared and only helped to accentuate the Commander’s lean waist and long legs.

Clarke shook her head, and turned to look at the Commander’s tent. There was a soft, warm light emanating from within, practically beckoning to her. Two of the grounder guards had taken up position just outside of its entrance. They looked almost familiar, but Clarke couldn’t remember where she’d seen them before.

“Just like old times.”

Clarke restrained herself from jumping at Octavia’s voice in her ear, but she couldn’t quite hide the startle from her face.

Octavia sent her a wry smirk. “Sorry,” she said, and she looked anything but. Then she jerked her head at the direction of the tent. “Looks like you’ve still got the five-star treatment around here, Clarke. I’d take advantage of it if I were you.”

“…I thought you hated her,” Clarke said slowly, actually feeling a little suspicious with the ease that Octavia spoke with.

“Oh, I do,” Octavia confirmed. “But,” and she stepped closer, lowering her voice. “She bends to you, Clarke. This little war we’re trying to avoid? We both know it’d already be in full swing if it wasn’t for you. If it wasn’t for the fact that she wants _you_. Yeah,” Octavia nodded. “I’m not blind. For someone who tries so hard to be a badass, you’d think she’d be better at hiding it. You’d think _you’d_ be better at hiding it.”

“I have nothing to hide.” The lie tasted sour on her tongue, as bittersweet as the feelings for Lexa she was determined to will out of existence.

“You’re not fooling anyone.” Octavia stepped back. “Be careful, Clarke. She’s betrayed us once before. What makes you think she won’t do it again if it comes down to it?”

“I don’t trust her, Octavia. We’re working with her out of necessity.”

“Keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better. I just hope you know what you’re doing.” Octavia’s eyes shifted, and Clarke didn’t have to turn to know that she was looking at Lexa. “Lexa might be the Commander, but she’s not invincible. She has her weaknesses. And you might just be the biggest one she has. If I were you, I’d take advantage of that while I still could.”

Something like dread curled in her stomach. “Octavia. What are you saying?”

“She bends for you, Clarke.” Octavia said. “If you really want to save our people—if you really want to stop this war? Make sure she bends in the right direction.”

 

 

Clarke had had nightmares since Mount Weather. She was used to waking up with a scream on the tip of her tongue, heart racing and breath coming fast and panicked, fear and disgust swirling in her stomach as she wrestled the images of radiation and death and bodies piled up around her from her mind.

She was used to that.

She wasn’t used to waking up to Lexa looming over her, to a hand hovering near her shoulder but not quite touching, to Lexa staring at her like she thought Clarke was on the verge of death itself. Lexa’s face was a little ashen, her eyes wide and flitting rapidly over Clarke’s face. She kneeled at the side of Clarke’s bed, only half dressed and hair mussed but fully alert and—she looked a little afraid.

“Clarke,” Lexa breathed. Her voice was as soft as the dawning light streaming through the crack in the tent flap. “You were—you were having a nightmare.”

“Yes,” Clarke inhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart. She could feel it pounding frantically against her ribcage, could feel her breath stuttering in her chest.

“Are you alright?” Lexa asked. Clarke moved to sit up in bed, and without warranting, Lexa shifted, bracing her back and side with her hands, gently pushing her upright. Clarke hated the way her skin burned beneath her clothes where Lexa touched her, hated the way her mind wanted to memorize the warmth of those hands on her—

And then it was gone, as soon as it had come. Lexa pulled sharply away from her, taking a breath, closing herself off. Clarke looked at her, and hoped the buried disappointment didn’t show on her face. It was a moment of weakness for the both of them, one they were determined to pretend had never happened. Could they? More importantly, did she even want to?

“It happens,” Clarke explained, after a moment of awkward silence where Lexa wouldn’t even meet her eyes, but had yet refused to move away, to leave her side. “Since…” she bit her lip. “Since Mount Weather. I have…dreams. Of them. Of all the people I—“

“Clarke,” Lexa interrupted her, speaking her name in the way only she could, voicing it like a prayer. “I know.” She said softly. “I have dreams of my own.”

It was hard to imagine Lexa having nightmares. Lexa, the Commander. Lexa, the ruler of twelve clans of fearless, ruthless warriors. Having nightmares. It seemed weak. In some way, it made Lexa seem a bit more human. Less unworldly.

“Dreams of past battles,” Lexa continued. “Both those I won, and those I lost. Even victory is not without its casualties.”

“Victory stands on the back of sacrifice,” Clarke murmured.

“Yes,” Lexa answered. “There are many who have sacrificed their lives in my name. Over the years, they have grown and grown and grown, until it seems like not one more face could fit in my mind. But I see them, Clarke. In my dreams. As I’m sure you do.” Lexa paused. “I see them, just as I see you.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed as she snapped her eyes to look at her. “You dream about me?”

Lexa looked at her and the sorrow in her eyes was deep enough to drown in. “I left you to die, Clarke,” she whispered. Then, “You once said that I was haunted by Costia.”

Clarke remembered. She remembered that argument. She remembered Lexa sending someone to kill Octavia, she remembered subverting it, she remembered storming into Lexa’s tent and cutting her with the words she knew would hurt most. In mere days, Clarke had learned Lexa’s vulnerabilities and she had sucker-punched her with them, throwing barb after barb until Lexa shrunk in front of her, until the Commander was no longer _Heda_ , but _human_.

And she remembered Lexa’s confession.

_“Not everyone. Not you.”_

Clarke had used it against her. Had tried to, rather, even back then. Now Octavia wanted her to do it again, and she wasn’t sure she could.

Lexa sat back on her knees, looking up at Clarke on the raised pallet, her eyes swimming with something between regret—and reverence. It was a look Clarke wasn’t sure how to process. It was a look that made it hard for her to breathe. It was a look that made her heart race all over again.

“Now,” Lexa said, her voice quiet and soft and wistful, “I am haunted by you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: POLITICAL NONSENSE. or alternatively, clarke & co. finally find out wtf happened at the border.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooo sorry for the delay. nursing school is a bitch.

 

 

               Clarke didn’t remember falling asleep. Honestly, it felt like she hadn’t slept at all. Rather, it felt like she’d closed her eyes, and simply waited for morning. Hours of waiting, while her mind raced and images flashed across her mind’s eye. Every so often, her eyes would snap open, and she’d stare at the embers of the fire in front of her until the light burned the memories of the dead away.

When light finally broke through the trees, Clarke couldn’t have been more thankful for the reprieve. She sat up wearily, blinking the tiredness from her eyes, and prayed that today wouldn’t be the day she collapsed on her feet from sleep deprivation.

At her right, Kailan sat with her knees bent in front of her, arms resting against them. She chewed thoughtfully on a strip of jerky on one hand, sparing Clarke only the shortest of glances before she returned to staring aimlessly into the small fire burning before them. Clarke frowned at it, wondering when Kailan had built the fire up. She must have fallen asleep at some point, to not have noticed her doing it.

The silence felt awkward, so Clarke spoke a customary, “Morning.”

Kailan made some indecipherable noise not so far removed from a grunt, but said nothing else.

Clarke got to her feet, and tried to hide the sudden vertigo she felt. She masked the uncertain stumble with a couple of steps away from the fire, unwittingly moving closer to Lexa’s tent. Her mood soured further.

She hadn’t taken Lexa up on her offer. Part of her wondered if she might have slept better if she had, but then she might have spent the whole night wondering if Lexa was going to stab her in the back, rather than wondering about how she was going to stab Lexa in hers. The thought of sharing a tent with Lexa after Octavia had planted that seed in her mind had left her feeling uneasy. Clarke was no stranger to manipulation. Why manipulating Lexa, or even the thought of it, made her feel sick to her stomach, she wasn’t sure.

“Is Lexa awake?”

Kailan did look at her, this time, raising a brow at her. “Of course she is,” she said, almost scoffing. She jerked a thumb behind her, toward the thicket of woods they’d originally come from—or, at least, Clarke _thought_ they had come from. Being that they’d arrived in the clearing in the middle of the night, it was a little hard to tell. “She's around here somewhere.”

Clarke looked, but didn’t see her. Kailan dug in her pack, and pulled out another piece of jerky. Clarke wondered just how much dried meat this girl carried around with her. Clarke hesitated for just a moment before she took it. The jerky wasn’t amazing. It was salted and dried, but it had little flavor to it, and only served to replace her hunger with thirst. Still, it was better than nothing. “Bellamy and Raven?”

“Do I look like their _keipa_?” Kailan snapped, glaring at her. “Go find them yourself.”

Clarke grimaced at her, then moved to find her own way. There were times when Kailan was not entirely awful, but the girl always managed to remind her quickly of exactly why Clarke and so many others didn’t like her. She’d only asked a damn question.

She managed to find Bellamy and Raven on her own, leaning over a makeshift table she hadn’t even seen being erected during the night. Octavia was pacing restlessly near them, arms crossed over her chest and a sour look on her face. Lexa stood a few meters away, speaking in hushed tones with one of the warriors that had come with them. Clarke didn’t recognize the man, but neither of them seemed pleased with the other’s presence.

“What’s going on?” She asked as she approached.

Octavia let out an aggravated huff, rolling her eyes. Bellamy glanced up at her, shook his head. “They’re arguing about where we go from here.” He gestured at the crude map laid out on the table in front of him, dragging a hand down a thick, uneven line that crossed from one edge of the map to the other. “Everything past this line is Ice Nation territory.”

“And how far away is their border?” Clarke knew they’d camped nearby, but she wasn’t sure how close they’d come.

“Quarter mile that way,” Bellamy pointed to the north edge of the camp. The clearing they’d made camp in was not large by any means, bordered by a thick forest on all sides but one, where a snowy rise crested at the top of a hill. What lay beyond it was unclear, only that it was Ice Nation. “The Commander sent some scouts out last night, tried to find out where the station might be.”

“And?”

Raven sighed. “Nothing. Which means it’s probably somewhere over that hill.”

“We knew they landed in the Ice Nation.” Clarke peered at the map, but without any knowledge of the surrounding area, it may as well have been a hieroglyph for all the sense she could make of it.

“Yeah, but we don’t know how _far_ ,” Bellamy argued. “And we can’t just waltz into the Ice Nation uninvited.”

“That’s what they’re arguing about?”

“What’s-His-Name says we can’t cross the border. Commander Hardass says we have reasonable cause and we should do it anyway, and that’s why we brought _her_ along,” Bellamy said, jerking his head in Kailan’s direction. “They’ve been at it for almost an hour now.”  

Clarke looked behind her, back at Kailan who sat by the fire. She hadn’t moved, and didn’t seem particularly interested in doing so anytime soon. “If we’re talking about going into the Ice Nation, shouldn’t she be part of this discussion?”

“She’s a glorified servant, Clarke,” Bellamy said darkly. “She doesn’t hold any real power in the Ice Nation, according to Lexa.” Clarke’s brows rose at his casual reference to her, but he merely kept going. “We _could_ go in, say Kailan gave us permission—that’s what the Commander was planning on, anyway. That maybe an escort from the ambassador would make it less worthy of sounding the war horns. But without the order from the Ice Queen herself, even _with_ Kailan here, if the Queen decided she wanted to declare us as an invading force—that’s it. War. What’s-His-Name doesn’t wanna risk it.”

Clarke let out a long suffering sigh and closed her eyes. “What are our options?”

“Not much,” Bellamy shrugged. “We let Kailan go in alone,” the matching grimaces that came over all their faces was enough of an answer to that suggestion, “and risk her throwing our people to the wolves. Or, we go in with her, and risk starting a damn war. It’s a lose-lose situation.”

Clarke chewed the inside of her cheek. “Would it count as an invasion if only one of us crossed the border?”

“No,” Bellamy straightened immediately, his face hard. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Bellamy—“

“ _No_ ,” he said again, and glared at her. “You go in alone and she could just take you straight to her leader. That’s probably exactly what she wants.”

Clarke rocked back on her heels, regarding him carefully. “You’ve changed your opinion of her rather quickly, Bellamy. Wasn’t it you who said we should try and work with them?”

“I don’t appreciate being lied to,” Bellamy muttered, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

At his side, Raven shook her head, more to herself than anyone else. “Someone told us a little story about Kailan’s history. Did you know she brought Lexa’s girlfriend’s head to her in a _box_?”

“I knew,” Clarke said.

“And you’re arguing to go trekking into the great unknown with her why, exactly?”

Clarke sighed. “Do we have another choice?”

 

“ _Absolutely_ not.”

Clarke had expected Lexa to argue. She hadn’t quite expected the Commander’s normally stoic expression to shift into something that was almost stricken. As soon as the words had left Clarke’s mouth, the color had drained from Lexa’s face. “Lexa—“

“I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t _control_ me,” Clarke shot back, irritated. “You can’t stop me from going. If it’s the only thing that keeps this—“ and she waved vaguely in the direction of their camp of some forty-odd warriors, “from becoming the front line of a war, then I’m doing it. End of story. You should be grateful I even bothered to give you a heads-up.”

For a moment, Lexa was silent. Then, she reached out, snatched Clarke’s arm with one of her hands, and dragged her almost bodily into the nearest tent, which just so happened to be filled with warriors. With a single look, the warriors leapt out of their seats and hurried out, bowing their heads as they went.

“You _cannot_ go.” Lexa half-whispered the words, and her eyes were wide with worry and fear and something close to panic. “You do not know what she is capable of. Here, surrounded by my warriors, you are safe. Venturing into the Ice Nation alone with her is a _death_ sentence, Clarke. She will kill you.”

“According to her, the Ice Queen wants me alive.”

“There are worse fates than death.”            

“Luna said that,” Clarke remembered. “I know, Lexa. I know that this isn’t exactly ideal—“

“Ideal? I am not asking for _ideal_ , Clarke, I am asking for _sense_.” Lexa looked at her like she couldn’t believe Clarke was even considering it, and Clarke was sure that was the case. After all, Kailan had killed Costia, tortured her, and, apparently, hand-delivered Costia’s head in a box. It wasn’t exactly outrageous, then, that Lexa was not on board with Clarke going off alone with her.

The hand wrapped around Clarke’s arm loosened, and it was only then that she realized Lexa had never let go. The desperation on Lexa’s face alone was enough to give her pause. She had seen such an expression before, once. On Raven. When she had killed Finn.

It was the face of someone watching their love die in front of them.

“I’ll be fine, Lexa. I have a gun.” And she glanced pointedly down at her hip.

“She can disarm you before you even think to use it.” Lexa said, but her voice was heavy with defeat as she pulled away from her. “Clarke. Please,” and Clarke’s mouth dropped open, because she never thought she’d hear the Commander beg. “Reconsider. We can find another way.”

“It’ll take too long.”

Lexa didn’t try to hide the pain in her eyes. “I promised your mother I would protect you. I can’t do that if I am not _there_. Clarke,” Lexa took a steadying breath. “I have already lost one to her. Do not make me lose another.”

Clarke did not have to ask what ‘one’ meant. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about the fact that Lexa was placing her on the same level as Costia, as the woman she had loved. She didn’t want to think about the fact that this really wasn’t a surprise. She’d seen it, after all, in Lexa’s eyes. As impassive as the Commander tried to be, her eyes were too expressive. Clarke had seen it the moment they’d been reunited, and she’d been avoiding it ever since.

“I’ll come back,” she promised. “I won’t let her get the jump on me.” And Clarke turned, and walked away, because she couldn’t bear the look on Lexa’s face. Like she was watching Clarke walk off to her execution.

It was a possibility, she supposed. Kailan _had_ killed Costia, and Clarke didn’t trust the girl not to stab her in the back. As it stood, however, she had no other choice if she wanted to find the missing Ark station. If she died in the process, well. At least her fight would be over.

              

Even Kailan gave her a dubious look when Clarke suggested that they go in alone. Clarke wondered if she’d actually managed to catch Kailan by surprise. “Not what you were expecting?”

“Not exactly.” Kailan stood, and Clarke saw her glance toward Lexa’s tent. The Commander had not yet come out. “I’m surprised,” and that irritating smirk was back again, but it didn’t seem to reach the girl’s eyes. “That the Commander would trust you to my care.”

“I don’t trust you,” Clarke cut through the bullshit. “This is a necessity.” She made a show of reaching for her weapon, and did not continue until she saw Kailan’s eyes flicker down to see it. “You do _anything_ suspicious—if you so much as look at me the wrong way, I will shoot you.”

]Kailan’s eyes rose to meet hers again, narrowing. “That is a very bold threat, Wanheda.”

]“Think of it as a promise.” Clarke stepped into Kailan’s space, thankful for the fact that the woman was about her height. That she didn’t have to try and threaten someone she had to look up at. “One wrong move, and I’ll kill you. And from what I’ve heard,” she leaned back, pasting an almost disdainful look on her face, “Queen Nia won’t even miss you. Now move. You first.”

]For a tense moment, Kailan simply stared back at her. Clarke met the girl’s gaze evenly, knowing that she was measuring her, searching for a weakness, waiting for a chance to strike. Clarke would not give it to her. She simply raised her brows meaningfully, and jerked her chin in the direction of the hill in front of them.

Kailan tilted her head in something that almost looked like respect. Then she spun on her heel, and started marching up the hill ahead of her. Clarke watched her ascent, palming the gun at her hip. Even with Kailan a few paces in front of her, she didn’t feel safe. Gripping the gun made her feel better. Clarke pulled it from its holster, pointing the barrel loosely at Kailan’s back. One squeeze of the trigger and Kailan would be down for the count.

Clarke switched off the safety.

 

Nearly an hour later, Kailan pulled up short in front of her, stopping suddenly at the crest of another large hill. It seemed that was all there was to the Ice Nation—hills, and snow, and cold. Bitter, bitter cold that seemed to pass right through Clarke’s clothes and chill her right to the bone. She’d started shivering about twenty minutes in, and she’d shoved her hands in her pockets after they’d started going numb. She didn’t think it could get so cold so fast, but Kailan seemed used to it, like this sort of thing happened all the time.

“What’s—“ Clarke started to yell up at her, but Kailan dropped into the snow and spun on her, shushing her almost violently. Against her own will, Clarke’s instincts followed suit, and the next instant, she found herself crouching in the snow a few meters below Kailan. “ _What?_ ”

“Get up here,” Kailan had lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, beckoning with one hand.

Clarke grunted as she went, irritated that she was climbing up a snow-covered hill on her hands and knees. Whenever they got back to camp, she was going to throttle Kailan. Or find someone else to do it for her. Luna had said that Kailan was a capable warrior, for all she didn’t look it. Clarke had just been considering the political ramifications of shooting Kailan in one of her kneecaps when she crested the hill herself, and saw what lie beyond it.

Clarke’s mouth dropped open.

Spread out before her was a large expanse of flat land blanketed in snow, almost as far as the eye could see. Peppered amongst the blindingly bright landscape were little dark huts and what looked like fur tents. There were people—warriors, by the look of them—milling about everywhere. Clarke saw a few tending horses, large, thick-chested beasts built for war. They looked slower, but hardier, than the horses the Trikru boasted. There were a few men sparring in a ring that had been cleared of snow somehow, perhaps by simply foot traffic, or heat, or some kind of purposeful brushing. The ground beneath their feet was hard-packed dirt.

But they were not what worried her. What worried her was the crumpled remains of an Ark station, right in the middle of the warriors’ camp. The station was surrounded on all sides.

“What the hell is this,” Clarke breathed out.

“Blockade, clearly,” Kailan huffed, peering out at them. Despite her condescending tone, with Clarke this close, she could see a little worry in the girl’s eyes. Whatever this was, Kailan hadn’t been informed, and it was unsettling her just as much as it was Clarke.

“I thought your people didn’t know. You said—“

“Word travels quickly on the tundra, _Skaiprisa_ ,” Kailan muttered. She still hadn’t looked at Clarke yet, her eyes flitting from one warrior to the next, like she was trying to count them. Clarke had tried herself, but once she’s gotten to fifty she’d chalked it up to “too damn many” and left it at that. “There must have been a survivor. Someone to run to a nearby village and report it.”

“And you’re saying you knew nothing about this?”

Kailan actually rolled her eyes. “If I knew the Queen had sent nearly a hundred men here, do you think I would have willingly subjected myself to your company in this ass-freezing cold to come out here?”

Clarke considered this, and decided the answer was probably a resounding no. Clarke didn’t like Kailan, and the feeling was mutual. “Now what,” she said instead, choosing not to reply to a question that didn’t really need answering.

Kailan frowned, and suddenly her brows came together. “How long would you say your people have been here?”

“They landed… maybe a few weeks ago?” Clarke tried to think back to when the rest of the Ark came down, tried to time it—but between the chaos of Mount Weather and Lexa’s betrayal, she couldn’t quite remember just when it was.

Whatever answer Kailan had been looking for, Clarke hadn’t given her the right one. “A few weeks?” The ambassador’s lips pulled into a tight line.

“Kailan,” Clarke said, when the girl didn’t speak again for some time. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”

“They’re starving them out.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've got a random part of the next chapter written already but i'm not gonna be an ass and make promises on when this will be updated again lmao but just know i haven't given up on this yet. unfortunately this chapter is a bit of setup more than anything but hopefully it wasn't awful. 
> 
> next chapter will likely focus more on lexa and clarke than previous ones if all goes as planned, and we'll (finally) be seeing less of kailan here soon.


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